


Hold me in the night

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Dry Humping, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Underage - Freeform, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5877676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s always only them. Ever since John laid Sam into Dean’s arms and told him to run it had always been them. It was the moment Dean swore to himself that he would protect Sam with all he had. And he tried, he did everything he could. To be honest, he thought their father would be the same. But the years went by and John became a different man, different than the loving father he had been before. Dean knew that he couldn’t count on John, that he would never love Sam the way he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Weecest fic and the first series I will write about this ship or Wincest in general. I hope you enjoy it :)

It’s always only them. Ever since John laid Sam into Dean’s arms and told him to run it had always been them. It was the moment Dean swore to himself that he would protect Sam with all he had. And he tried, he did everything he could. To be honest, he thought their father would be the same. But the years went by and John became a different man, different than the loving father he had been before. Dean knew that he couldn’t count on John, that he would never love Sam the way he did. 

For him Sam was _everything_ in the world. There was never a thing Dean wouldn’t have done for him. Sam was his baby brother, the one he protected from nightmares when he had them or from thunderstorms outside. He was the one crawling into Dean’s bed at night, when the wind was howling outside and his whole body was shaking. And Dean was the one holding him tight, humming calming melodies and soothing him the best he could, assuring him everything was alright, that with him he would be safe from anything bad in the world. 

Yes, John gave Dean more than one angry look and countless of lectures how he was turning Sam into a baby and pampering him, but Dean knew better than to talk back or to tell him the truth. That he was giving his brother what would have been _his_ job, what was his fucking _responsibility_ , to keep Sam safe and happy and give him the childhood he _deserved_. But he kept silent, knowing it was of no use. 

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Sam trusted him, that he managed to keep the darkness away from his little brother in the night and even give him some happy memories whenever John was gone hunting. They liked it most when he dropped them off at Bobby’s, where they played tag between all those cars, laughing for hours before collapsing on the meadow breathlessly. Sam always searched for Dean’s hand when they did, holding it tight as he leaned against him. Dean loved those moments when nothing was bad, when it was just them and Sam was happy. He never needed anything else. Sometimes, when Bobby wasn’t looking and they had spent the day outside playing, Sam pressed a sloppy and sweet kiss on Dean’s cheek, smiling brightly. He wouldn’t do it in front of Bobby and _never_ in front of John, but whenever he did it Dean blushed unwillingly and smiled too. Yes, he loved Sam and he knew Sam loved him back just as much.

 

Going to school is horrible for Dean. It doesn’t only mean pretending to be someone he is not, to be normal, but also to leave Sammy behind and that’s the worst. Every day he runs home as fast as he can, praying that his brother is fine, that he’s alive and not hurt. Whenever he is a huge stone drops from Dean’s chest and he pulls his little brother into his arms, ruffling his hair and tells him how much he missed him and how boring school was without him. He never stays long enough in any school to make friends, but he doesn’t really want to. What for? They’ll be gone once he leaves. But Sam… Sam is always there. 

Sam is _forever_. 

They grow up and they grow together. Not a single night Sam sleeps in his bed anymore once he’s six, whenever he knows it’s safe he crawls into Dean’s bed, resting his head against the older one’s chest. He listens to his heartbeat, this steady rhythm that always calms him down, that is always there, assuring him Dean is too. He even hears it in his dreams, silent and smooth, but always there. Dean doesn’t mind, he loves the feeling of holding Sam in his arms, of their legs tangling together in the small bed, the smell of Sam when he sleeps. It’s an innocent thing, a gesture of pure love and it’s not only Sam who needs it, it’s also Dean who needs to know Sam is safe and alive. 

John hates that his sons are such little babies and cling on each other so much, but no matter how often he yells at them and tells them to stop, they don’t. So eventually he just ignores it and gets them a separate room when they check into a motel. Sam and Dean are rather happy with this, they both don’t like their father’s disapproving looks and the way it always makes him angry. And besides, what is his damn problem? They are _brothers_ , they just do what brothers _do_. They are there for each other. _Always_. 

Things change on Christmas Eve when Sam is eight and Dean is twelve. It’s the day Dean tells his brother the truth and with that destroys his childhood forever. He should have hidden the journal better, but he can’t change anything anymore, so he tells Sam the truth. And boy, he is scared, Dean can see it, despite Sam trying to act brave. He always saw it. When he gives Dean the necklace he intended to give their father he doesn’t know what to say. Once the bronze amulet rests on his chest though he know it’s right. It’s where it belongs and it’s more than just a gift, it’s like a promise. And he doesn’t know how important it will become very soon. 

This night, when Sam crawls under his blanket again, is the night everything changes. Sam always laid close to him, way closer than anyone else would, but this night he is shaking and Dean knows why. All these horrors he thought were just fantasy turned out to be real and he is too young to process it right and in such a short time. So Dean pulls him as close as he can and when suddenly something pulls on his neck he looks down, noticing his brother’s hand wrapped around the pendant and holding on it. It’s the first time Sam is so desperate, but Dean doesn’t mind. He brushes his hand through Sam’s hair and kisses his forehead, a soft and gentle touch, caring and understanding. 

Sam falls asleep in Dean’s arms very quickly, it’s safe with Dean and he knows it. Dean, on the other hand, can’t sleep. He is overwhelmed by what happened, overwhelmed by the love he feels for Sam. It is something that was always there, but that grew bigger and bigger over the time and now he knows: if he _ever_ loses Sam, one way or the other, he can’t go on. He needs Sam, needs him to be safe, to wrap his arms around him at night and to feel his breath against his neck when he moves in his sleep. He needs Sam’s warmth and that he drools on his shirt at night sometimes, that the first thing he smells in the morning is him and that he even stays in bed, just lying there and waiting for Sam to wake up on his own. All these things he just _needs_ , if they were gone all of a sudden he wouldn’t know what to do. 

The minutes pass, the only sound the steady ticking on the wall and the silent breathing from Sam. Dean’s hand is resting against Sam’s neck, the other wrapped around Sam’s hand that holds the pendant. It’s hours before he finally falls asleep and in his dreams he only sees Sam, laughing and happy, a perfect child that adores the shit out of his big brother and would follow him everywhere. And Dean smiles, because this is all that matters. Sammy. _His_ Sammy. Sammy is his world. 

He wakes up in the morning, the smile still carved on his lips, and Sam somehow even closer to him, almost on top of his big brother, still asleep. Dean looks at him, takes all of his brother in for a few seconds, the slightly parted lips, his closed eyes with those perfect lashes, the hair falling into his face; before he knows something is different. His body stiffens when he notices _what_ is different, that Sam is lying on him in the worst angle possible. He has a hard-on and it’s pressed right up against his brother. He wasn’t surprised about the fact that this happened, more that it happened _now_. Yes, he was twelve, these things happened, he knew it and it was okay, as long as it wasn’t like _this_. 

Carefully not to wake Sam Dean tried to get him off himself, to stop this completely inappropriate thing that doesn’t _feel_ wrong, yet, even though Dean knows it _is_. When he manages to get Sam halfway off, almost enough so he can slip out of the bed before it’s too late, because he know what will happen, it always does and he just can’t control it, Sam shifts and wraps his arms back around him tight. His hand brushes over Dean’s crotch and he inhales sharply, cursing himself for all of this. Sam mumbles something Dean can’t understand and nuzzles his face against his brother’s chest, unaware of the horror the other goes through. And then it’s too late, when Sam pulls Dean’s numb body against him and his belly presses against his crotch again he can’t stop it anymore. 

Dean comes into his pants, it’s barely wet, it’s just painful at the moment and feels so _wrong_. He still lets out a silent groan, he can’t prevent it, and when Sam mumbles a question, if he hurt him, he shakes his head. What he wants to say is _“God, no Sammy. You could never hurt me, I just fucked into my pants because you touched me, that’s all”,_ but he doesn’t do it of course. Sam wouldn’t understand. Dean just tells him he needs to go to the bathroom and Sam lets him go, mumbling contently when he snuggles back into the warm blanket. There is a different smell now, one that makes the younger one frown, but it’s nothing he worries about. It still smells like Dean and that’s all that matters. 

Meanwhile Dean _did_ go to the bathroom, but not because he has to pee, even though he does; and it’s annoying with his dick still half hard and leaking. God, what did he just do? He just jerked off on his baby brother and couldn’t stop himself. Yes, it wasn’t on purpose, but that doesn’t lessen the guilt he felt. He takes longer than normal because he washes his underwear right there and then before slipping back into his pants. When he comes back into the room he doesn’t want to go back to bed, but Sam is there, half sitting, still with his sleepy face and asks him to do it. 

Dean can’t say no, not to Sam needing him. He crawls back under the blanket with Sam, who instantly scoots close again and Dean sighs. He can smell his cum, still can, this weird smell of pennies in a well, but Sam doesn’t say a thing so he lets it slip and just holds him for a while. 

“I had a weird dream, Dean.” Sam suddenly whispers, his breath unusually cold, and Dean raises his brows. It’s not just the cold, Sam never talks about his dreams. 

“What kind of dream?” Dean asks carefully, not wanting to push him but if he wants he can talk. He won’t judge, he never does. 

“Doesn’t matter, ‘was just a dream.” Sam sighs. Apparently it wasn’t a good dream and Dean pulls him closer, nuzzling his face against Sam’s hair. 

“Yeah… it’s good now, you’re here. I’m here. We’re good.” 

He knows they aren’t, at least _he_ is not. But Sam needs to be safe, that’s what is important. 

The next morning, after they spent the day inside and mostly watched cartoons, it happens again. The same hard-on, the same person it’s pressed against, and this time Dean doesn’t know what to do. He just lies there, trying to remind himself that this is his _brother_ , his _little_ brother, who shouldn’t cause this kind of thing in him. And yet it happened again. This time Dean decides to wake Sam up, to tell him he has to let go off him or something bad will happen. 

“Sammy.” He mumbles, not loud, his voice is barely existing right now anyway. 

“I’m sleeping…” Sam mumbles and turns, giving Dean a slight rub that doesn’t help at all. 

“Sammy let me go, I beg you.” 

And with these words Sam is awake, almost immediately unwrapping his arms from Dean and looks at him confused and worried. Dean rolls over and groans when he presses himself into the mattress, unable to walk through the room like this. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Sam asks and crawls closer, but Dean holds out a hand, stopping him. 

“I’m good. Gimme a minute. I just… oh god dammit!” It hurt like _hell_ , all he wants is for it to be over, but he’s still just as hard as before, if not more. His body isn’t made for this yet, what happens is just this stupid pre-teen shit he heard about in school, but it still hurts. 

“Dean talk to me!” Sam begs now and his brother can’t just ignore him, can’t ignore the so hurt voice and the face that surely shows the first signs of tears already. 

“C’mere, Sammy.” Dean says and hold one of his arms out. He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t fight it, he just can’t. When Sam comes closer and he wraps his arm around him he turns his head. “Sammy, promise me you won’t be mad at me, please.” He says silently. 

“I’ll never be mad at you!” Sam gasps, almost shocked now. “What is wrong?” 

Dean doesn’t answer, he just turns his body and pulls Sam close. His thigh is pressed against Dean’s hard crotch and the older one can’t suppress a weak sigh at the touch. 

“Dean? What… what is this?” Sam asks, but Dean shakes his head and buries his face against Sam’s neck, unable to speak. Sam doesn’t know what to do, only that his brother is going through something bad right now, so he wraps his arm around him and holds him tight. Dean moves slightly, rubs against him for a few moments, but it’s not unpleasant, doesn’t feel bad at all. Then he can feel something wet and Dean’s breath, heavy before, rags. He does what his brother does and buries his face against him, sniffing. 

For a few minutes they just lay there, holding each other, Dean feeling worse than ever before and Sam just worried and confused. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Dean whispers, tickling Sam’s skin with his breath. 

“Dean…” Sam doesn’t know what to say. Don’t be sorry? He doesn’t even know what happened, just that his leg feels sticky and wet and that Dean is crying. Dean never cries, Dean is the strong one of them, the protector, the older brother. Knowing he’s crying and now knowing why makes him sad. In the end Sam just strokes over Dean’s back, trying to assure him nothing is wrong, but he doesn’t know if it works or not. 

After a few minutes Dean pulls away and rubs his eyes dry, Sam carefully watching him in case he did something wrong before. When Dean finally looks up his eyes are full of guilt. Sam knows this look too well, he always has it himself when he backtalks to their dad or does something wrong. 

“Dean, are you alright?” He asks carefully, but his brother shakes his head. 

“I did something really, _really_ bad.” 

At first Sam doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The worst thing that happened was that… it hit the younger one almost like a train when he made the connections. He wasn’t stupid, far from that actually, but he would have never thought that _this_ was something that would ever happen. Of course Dean feels guilty and horrible now, but for Sam it wasn’t something that bad. He leans forward and against Dean’s chest again, inhaling his unique scent deeply, now it’s mixed with this other smell again, a smell he can now connect to what just happened. And it’s a _good_ smell. 

“’s okay, Dean.” He whispers. Yes, Sam _knows_ it’s not okay, nothing about this is actually _okay_ , but it doesn’t matter, because for him it _is_. Dean wraps his arms around him after a few seconds and this is what _really_ makes it okay. 

“You know what I did, don’t you?” He asks silently, almost hopeful that Sam says no. 

“Yes. But it’s good, really. It wasn’t bad, don’t say that.” Sam doesn’t want Dean to think just for a second that what he did was wrong. For anyone else it might be, but their relationship is close, it’s different and Sam knows, even if he’s only eight, that it’s kinda toxic too. But damn, this is _their_ relationship, it’s no one else’s business. 

“I _used_ you, Sammy.” Dean mumbles, but Sam shakes his head, eagerly. 

“I don’t care. It helped you so it’s fine.” 

For five very long minutes they are silent. There is so much more to say, but Sam doesn’t know how to say it and Dean just can’t. It means so much to Dean that Sam doesn’t judge him, that he doesn’t hate him for what he did like he hates himself. This is his baby brother after all, he shouldn’t do this. 

“You should change your clothes before dad comes back.” Sam says eventually and this really draws a chuckle from his brother. 

“Yeah, probably. He would freak out completely.” He sighs and lets Sam go, even though he doesn’t want to. He slips off the bed and grabs some new clothes to wash himself and get dressed. Sam changes into something else too, but before he does he looks at the little wet spot on his pants for a few moments, trying to find anything _wrong_ with it. He can’t. Because for him there’s nothing wrong. He loves Dean, Dean loves him. This isn’t something horrible and bad, this is just a _sign_ of love. He understands. No one else probably would, but Sam does. Dean loves him, _that’s_ important.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not the last time it happens, but it doesn’t happen again at first. Things get busy again soon, they move on, leave the motel this all happened in and leave the memories behind too. It’s like before, Sam sleeping in Dean’s bed, just two brothers keeping each other safe, nothing more, nothing bad. The only thing that changes is that Sam holds the pendant on Dean’s necklace when he falls asleep and that’s okay. It gives him safety and Dean can still sleep like this. 

Months pass before their dad drops them off at Bobby’s again. And this times they think he won’t come back. Days pass, then days become weeks. Bobby can’t reach John, so he does what Dean expected him to do. He takes care of them. Sometimes Dean wished Bobby could be their dad and it gets worse now. He’s so much more caring than John is anymore. 

These weeks are wonderful for Sam and Dean. It’s summer, they spend the whole day outside in the yard or the woods, where they discovered a small creek that they both love. Sometimes they take off their shoes and socks, roll their jeans up and chase the small fishes in there. 

One day Dean laughs like mad when Sam finally manages to catch one of them with his hands and Sam is so shocked that he really did it that he drops it back into the water again. This makes him laugh too and he can’t remember a day where he had been happier. They both fall into the creek, crackling until they can barely breathe anymore. 

“Bobby will kill us!” Dean suddenly yells, sending Sam into another laughing spiral. 

“Yeah, look at you! You’re soaked to your bones!” 

“What about you, smartass?” Dean cocks back, giggling. “You’re not better.” 

“He likes me more, that’s fine.” Sam chuckles, knowing it’s not true and Dean knows too, that’s why he’s suddenly above him and Sam screeches loud, sending all the birds around them into the air. Dean still laughs when he starts tickling Sam, who can’t help but wince under his brother and scream and yell at him to finally stop because he’s about to pee himself. 

“Do it, baby, do it! I won’t stop, you know that.” Dean teases him and he’s right, he won’t. Because this is a moment of joy and they both can’t stop and they don’t want to stop either. Luckily Sam doesn’t pee, even though it’s a hard fight. _That’s_ something he won’t ever do in front of Dean, no matter what. 

Dean picks him up after Sam can’t laugh anymore and carries him out of the water, Sam still so small compared to him that it’s the easiest job in the world. They both collapse on the grass, chuckling and gasping for air, but it’s a good feeling. It’s pure and it’s wonderful and Sam loves every second of this day. It’s not even afternoon, there is still so much of it left and it’s already perfect. 

They both lie there, watching the clouds, Dean lost in thoughts soon, as much as his brother. Dean’s hands play with his pendant, twisting it in his fingers, remembering that every night Sam’s hand will close around it and he hopes it never ends. Yeah, he’s still his little brother, he will always be. He doesn’t want to lose this, never. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice reaches his ear and Dean smiles a little before turning around, facing his brother who did the same already. He wonders how long Sam way like this, watching him. 

“Yeah?” 

“I thought about something.” Sam blushes a little at his words, almost as if he was ashamed of them. 

“Tell me.” It’s not an order, Dean doesn’t order. He requests. That’s the difference between him and John and that’s why Sam talks to him and not to their father. 

“Do you remember what happened, in this motel during Christmas?” 

Of course Dean does. It’s all he can think of late at night, when Sam is already asleep in his arms and he just can’t find rest. And, he won’t admit it, but it’s what he thinks about when he locks himself in the bathroom too, when he touches himself, searching for a release that he can never get. Yeah, he gets off, physically it’s fine, but in his head it’s not and he knows why. Oh god, he knows why. 

Dean shakes his head and pushes those thoughts away. That’s probably not what Sam is even _talking_ about. He looks back at him, a fake smile on his lips. 

“I do, yeah.” He says. “What’s with it?” 

Sam hesitates for a minute or two and Dean knows his first instinct was right, he _was_ talking about this. When he spoke he turned his head away to not look at Dean. 

“How did it feel?” 

Dean is surprised by this question, his face flushing red almost as much as Sam’s before. How is he supposed to answer this? He doesn’t even know himself. 

“Sam, I – I don’t know. It just… felt like it always does.” He bites his lip at this stupid answer, but it’s the best he can come up with. Sam turns around, his cheeks are almost glowing now. Dean thought he was ashamed and embarrassed, but he was wrong. It is eager. And he asks himself how _long_ Sam wanted to ask this and never did. 

“Always?” Sam asks, a strangely dreamy look in his eyes that is alarming Dean. “So, you do it often?” 

“Sammy, that’s not a topic for you, okay?” Dean sighs and scratches the back of his head. 

“Because you think I’m a child, right?” Sam huffs and sits up, anger now visible on his face. “You think I’m still a baby and I wouldn’t understand!” He jerks up, angrily glaring at his brother. 

There they go again. Sam’s temper is showing and Dean knows he’s screwed. It doesn’t happen often when they are alone, usually Sam flips when their dad is their too, but when it does… oh boy! 

Dean stands up too now, sighing. “I never said that, Sam.” He tries to be calm, but it’s hard. 

“But it’s what you think! Stupid baby Sammy, can’t even sleep alone, what does _he_ need to know?” he stomps away, to the creek, turning his back at Dean. 

“Sammy, no!” Dean can’t help but follow him. “What happened wasn’t okay, don’t you understand that?” 

“What about it was not okay, Dean, tell me!” 

“It’s not what brothers _do_ , my god!” Can’t Sam see how wrong it was of him to use him like that? To fucking jerk off against his leg like a needy little dog that couldn’t control himself? 

“ _Nothing_ we do is what brothers do.” Sam’s words are silent and Dean sees that his hands are clenched to fists. He hurt Sam, he doesn’t know how, but he did. Within seconds Dean is by his side, pulling him into his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, Sammy. Don’t be mad at me, please.” Dean whispers, Sam close against his chest. “I shouldn’t have done it, but I was too weak, I couldn’t stop myself.” 

“I _told_ you it’s okay.” Sam mumbles against his chest, his hands grabbing his shirt in a desperate act. “Why don’t you believe me?” 

“Because you _are_ a kid, that’s why. I… damn, Sammy, I molested you, okay? How can you say that’s okay?” It’s true, Dean can finally admit it. Yes, he molested his brother in the worst way possible. 

Sam doesn’t answer, he just looks up at his brother with his big eyes and Dean can’t look away. If Sam only knew what else he thinks of, what else runs through his damned mind when he looks at him. How badly he wants to kiss him, to see if it feels different from the girls he kissed already. He wants to know how he tastes, how he feels so close. But god, this is his _brother_ , he can’t have these thoughts, yet alone voice them out loud. He loves Sammy too much to corrupt him and break him like that. 

“Sam please, it won’t happen again, I promise you that.” His voice is almost desperate, his eyes still not leaving Sam’s. 

Then the younger one leans his head forward, resting against the still wet shirt of his brother. His arms wrap around Dean’s waist, almost lost he looks when Dean returns the gesture and holds him. 

“Can I still sleep in your bed?” Sam asks after a while, almost shy. Dean smiles weakly and kisses his brother’s head. 

“Always, Sammy.” He promises him. “I don’t think I could sleep without you drooling all over me and kicking me all night.” 

“Don’t say that, I don’t!” Sam huffs and pokes Dean’s chest, earning a slight chuckle. 

“No, no you don’t.” he agrees, his smile growing a little wider. “You’re warm, Sammy. I like that.” 

“Yeah, me too…” 

They don’t do much more that day, just walk back to Bobby’s through the forest, carrying their shoes and not saying a word. Bobby asks them what they did during dinner and it’s mostly Sam that talks. He gives Bobby a report about the fish he caught and the hide and seek game they never played, all while Dean eats in silence and is buried deep in his own thoughts. Sometimes Bobby glances at him from the side, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“You two hit the hay soon.” Bobby says after they are all done eating and Dean looks up a little confused. Usually they can watch some TV before going to bed. “I want you to shower before, you’re as dirty as my savage and I won’t allow you both to kill my new sheets.” 

At these words Sam snickers and nods. “’Course, uncle Bobby.” He agrees. Dean isn’t really surprised how respectful his brother talks to Bobby. He too likes him a lot. The two boys put the dishes into the sink before going upstairs and Sam jumps under the shower, leaving Dean alone in their room for a while. The older one lays down on the bed, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself. 

He knows the thoughts he has about Sam sometimes are wrong, no one has to tell him that. Sam is nine fucking years old, he shouldn’t feel like this about him. But he does and the older Sam gets, the worse these feelings get. He sees him grow, every day Sam changes a little, finds himself in this mess that is their life. He’s the brightest kid Dean has ever seen, too bright for his age; and way too mature for it too. Today was a rare occasion, something he wishes he could give Sam more often, but can’t. Maybe it’s not so weird that he has these feelings towards Sam after all. Their life is a mess, _they_ are a mess, even if Dean tries so hard to give Sam at least a somewhat normal childhood. He is all that Dean has, all that he _needs_. It’s just something he has to fight, an urge he can’t allow himself to give in, and it will be okay. Sam doesn’t need to know what he thinks about when he jerks himself off, he doesn’t need to know that no girl he had ever seen even comes close to Sam. His brother will be even more perfect when he gets older, Dean knows that, he can already see it. Girls will fall for him, fight over who may talk to him first. One day Sam will not need him anymore and damn, he is scared of this moment. 

“Dean? I’m done!” Sam calls from the bathroom. Apparently Dean was lost in his mind longer than he thought, because when he dragged himself up and grabbed some new clothes Sam already stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his small hips and another one over his head. God damn, he is _gorgeous_ like that, Dean can barely take his eyes off him, off this kid that has too many muscles for his age and is still wet from the hot shower. 

“You okay?” Sam asks worried, but Dean doesn’t answer, he needs to get away, _now_. He just shakes his head and storms into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Sam didn’t need to lock it, but he definitely has to. 

The bathroom is still hot and the air thick from the steam of Sam’s shower, but it doesn’t bother Dean. Especially not that he’s unable to see himself in the mirror. He couldn’t stand seeing his own face right now, maybe never again. Dean strips out of his clothes within seconds, piling them on the floor before stepping under the shower and turning it on. He hoped the hot water would wash this damn disturbing feeling away, but it does nothing more than making it worse. 

Dean leans against the wall and lets the hot water wash over him for a few seconds. He curses himself and wraps a hand around his cock roughly, closing his eyes. No, he would never tell Sam about this, how he imagines that it’s his own brother jerking him off or sucking him dry. But the thought is too hard to fight, this fantasy is pure ecstasy for him. Imagining Sam’s soft and swollen lips around his cock, swollen from Dean crashing their lips together again and again, licking and sucking him like the sweetest lollipop in the world; it is all he can think of sometimes. It doesn’t take long until the combination of his hand, the water and this sick fantasy sends him over the edge and he’s unable to hold back Sam’s name when he spills over his hand. 

He has tears in his eyes when his body spasms in the afterglow, tears that he tries to swallow down but can’t. They come from his own self loathe and the fact that what he imagines will never be real, both hurting him more than just a little. He hates himself for these thoughts, hates himself for picturing his little brother as anything else than this: a brother he’s supposed to protect. But it’s impossible to fight it, he tried it for months and it’s breaking him more and more each day. 

When Dean comes out of the bathroom half an hour has passed and he is fully dressed, way too hot for the weather, but he can’t risk that Sam touches his bare skin today. Sam is already under the sheets, waiting for his brother to come join him. Dean wishes he could just have some time alone, maybe even steal one of Bobby’s beers from the fridge, but he can’t just leave Sam alone when he needs him, he never can. So he lays down beside his brother, who scoots closer to him the second his head hits the pillow. Sam’s hand reaches out for the pendant like every night, but this time Dean grabs it before him. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asks puzzled. Dean shakes his head and takes the pendant to his lips, pressing a kiss on it before rolling over and giving it to his brother. 

“Nothing.” He whispers at the smile on Sam’s lips. 

They snuggle up like they always do, Dean reaching behind him to turn off the light so Sam can sleep. It’s another night where the older one can’t find any sleep himself, but it’s alright. It always is. He just wants Sam to know that he’s there and that he’s loved. Anything else is not important in his life. Somehow he doesn’t even want their dad to come back. Sam is so happy here, he can be what Dean always wanted him to be: a child. Not a hunter, not a monster killing machine. Just the wonderful and amazing kid that is buried under all of this.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean wakes up in the morning he is alone. For the first time in over three years Sam isn’t lying in his arms when he opens his eyes and for a moment he can’t even breathe. It feels like his heart stopped beating and he grabs the shirt at his chest – god, the necklace is gone too!

Dean jumps up, almost strangles himself with the blanket in an attempt to get out of bed and lands on the floor with a dull bang. He can’t even move for a moment or two, he just lies there and stares at the ceiling, tears in his eyes and a loneliness in his heart that he didn’t know yet. 

“Stop bangin’ my house down, dammit!” He hears a scream from the basement and for a second he’s confused before he remembers; Bobby is there! Bobby must know where Sam is! 

Dean drags himself up on his feet, kicking the blanket away angrily as he storms out of the room and almost flies down the stairs. He finds Bobby in the kitchen, but Sam is nowhere to be seen. 

“Slept in, boy? The little one is up for hours already.” Bobby grunts amused. Dean has no idea what he’s talking about; until he notices the clock on the wall. It’s already past ten, hours after they normally wake up. He has no idea why Sam just slipped out of bed, why he left him sleeping. 

“Where is Sammy?” he asks and tries to sound cool when in reality he’s scared to the bones. 

“Said something about taking a bath.” Bobby just shrugs, not as half as worried as Dean. “Kid’s taken some stuff with him, said he’d be back for lunch.” 

Dean nods and before Bobby can ask him if he wants to eat something for a late breakfast he’s gone already. He knows where Sam is, if he wants to take a bath there’s only one place: the creek. If Sam wanted to do this, why didn’t he tell him? Did Dean really hurt him so much the last day that he wanted to be alone, rather than with him? Sure, Dean wanted some time alone too, but he didn’t just go without a word. He never expected Sam to do this. 

He can hear the creek before he sees it, a steady and nice noise in the slightly foggy morning, but it’s disturbed, as if someone’s walking through it. Of course someone is doing this, Dean knows who and continues his way until he can see the flowing water. The disturbances have stopped by now and what Sam sees when he comes into full view of the scene blows his mind and his breath away completely. 

Sam is butt naked, the only thing he’s wearing is Dean’s necklace and nothing else. He’s lying in the creek, the water flowing around him and over his chest and Dean can barely control himself to not just run over there and press his lips on any part of him he can reach. He bites his lip, but he can’t force himself to look away, this picture is so perfect, so _damn_ perfect, that he can’t do anything but stare. 

It’s not that Sam wants to be alone, he wants Dean to be with him, but he knows that his older brother would never do this, never come with him if he asked. So he went out on his own and now, in this cold and refreshing water, with nothing on him than the necklace that is right over Dean’s heart all the time, he feels a little better. Not as good as when he’s with Dean, but this is all he can get; and he takes it. 

Sam’s hands rested above his head, but now one of them moves, trails over his chest and the amulet that Dean kissed the night before, further down to his abdomen. He knows why he’s lying in the water, why he ignores the cold around him. It’s because like this his hand becomes slightly numb, he noticed that the day before, and this way he can pretend it’s not his _own_. 

Dean can’t believe what he sees, what his little brother does to himself there. He’s still a year younger than Dean when he did this the first time, out of curiosity, but it seems like Sam knows _exactly_ what he’s doing when he slides his hand down into the water. It’s fascinating, not because of the fact that he actually does this, which is surprising enough, but because it’s simply _beautiful_ in Dean’s eyes. His breath goes flat as he tries not to make a sound, not to think about the fact that he’s getting all worked up by this. Sam _is_ beautiful, there is no other word for him. His muscles move in the water, the sunlight giving all of this an almost celestial feeling to it. If there are angels somewhere in this world they will look like this, Dean knows it for sure. And, as much as it hurts Dean, for the first time he asks himself what he would do if this wasn’t his baby brother, if they were a few years older. 

Sam’s eyes close when his fingers brush over his still growing cock, still so soft and hairless and innocent. It’s the first time he does it, but he needs to, _needs_ to know how Dean felt when he did this against him. He moves his hand slow at first, experimenting what feels good, how he needs to do it so he gets the most out of it. Quickly he closes his hand around himself, beginning to stroke in a slow pace. And god, it feels so heavenly. He never thought this could be so good, especially with the images flooding his mind, images of Dean’s face all hot and adoring. It’s all he can think of: Dean’s hands on his body, his warm and strong hands with his nails scratching over his soft skin and make him feel loved and good and perfect. 

“Dean…” Sam whimpers, his head turning to the side slightly, not enough so his face is in the water, but enough to reveal that his face is hot, his cheeks rosy from the arousal and a little from embarrassment too. 

When Sam moans his name Dean almost runs to him, almost screws his last bit of sanity, but he doesn’t. It’s pure instinct, when Sam calls Dean comes for him, it had _always_ been this way. Not this time though. His own hand brushes over his jeans, he barely notices it, his eyes still on Sam as if he is never able to look away again. And he doesn’t care a bit. It’s hot and amazing seeing Sam working himself up like this, especially when he moans Dean’s name, which he does again and again now. Dean moves his hand faster, gripping his own hard one through the denim to not waste a second of this wonderful scene in front of him. He won’t be able to look into Sam’s eyes for a while, but right now he doesn’t even think about it. All he wants to do is watch Sam’s body buckle and jerk forever, watch the light turn his beautiful face into a picture of pure perfection and hear him making these beautiful and almost innocent sounds. Yes, Dean had seen girls naked before, had his hands on them, but they weren’t half as beautiful as Sam is right now, they will _never_ be. 

Sam can feel his stomach tighten and, even if he never did this before, he knows it’s a sign that he’s close to whatever happened with Dean the other night. He fastens his strokes, grip tightening and loosening to get the most out of it. When he feels it build up he gasps, fucking into his hand more than before and he whimpers under this sudden feeling, so overwhelming and new and sweet that it’s almost perfect. He moans Dean’s name again, louder this time and pure lust filling his voice, making it deeper and dark. Sam is lost in this, in the first orgasm of his life, in the fantasy that Dean is with him, is doing this to him and god, he loves it. 

This last moan, his name leaving Sam’s lips in such a delicious and pleasured tone, it’s enough to send Dean over the edge and he has to grit his teeth and claw his hand into his crotch to not do the same Sam did, moan his brother’s name because he’s all he can think of right now. Now he _forces_ himself to close his eyes, to turn his back at Sam for the better. He’s burned in his memory and it will never leave Dean again, this picture of the most beautiful sin in the world. Dean kneels down, carefully and silently regaining his breath so his brother doesn’t know that he saw him, that he _watched_ him in this intimate moment. Like a voyeur. 

After two or three minutes Dean decides it’s better to leave, better to not walk up at Sam. He crawls away, his underwear sticking on his skin. When he knows he’s out of Sam’s sight he stands up and makes his way back to Bobby’s house. He sneaks in, slipping upstairs behind Bobby so he won’t see the wet spot between his legs and changes into different clothes after cleaning himself. All the time he doesn’t know how to feel, what to think even. He just watched his brother while he jerked himself off, doing the same just because of looking at him like this. What _does_ one think after this? He feels guilty and dirty, as if he will burn in hell for what he just did and maybe he will. If he would have watched anyone else it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but his own brother was something entirely different. 

Sam comes back about an hour later, perfect timing for lunch. Dean helps Bobby, even though he is silent most of the time. He just needs something to do in order to draw his thoughts away from his brother and what he had seen. When Sam comes in and greets them he only grunts, not even looking at him and Bobby gives him a weird look that he tries to ignore the best he can. 

“Smells good, Bobby.” Sam compliments and Bobby nods, telling him to set up the table. 

Dean helps bringing everything over, but this time he sits down a chair away from Sam. It’s not because he wants to, more because he can’t risk touching him on accident now. Another weird look from Bobby that he ignores follows, but he catches the one Sam gives him; and it hurts. 

They eat in silence, only their knives and forks clicking and disturbing what is the heaviest silence in Dean’s life. He doesn’t know what to say, Sam has no idea he saw him out there and he will definitely blow himself up if he says anything at all. He even does the dishes afterwards, alone, anything to not look into Sam’s eyes at the moment and lose himself in the memories he has. Because if he does he might as well sell his soul completely and touch him like he does in his dreams and that would be the end. Sam and Bobby leave him alone and he’s glad about it, really. 

He wants to see Sam as his little brother again so desperately it hurts, more than _anything_ else could hurt. What happened that he suddenly felt different, that he wanted more from Sam than just being with him and holding and protecting him? What the fuck was _wrong_ with him that he dragged Sam into this, that he corrupted his innocence and made him do what he saw today? It was his fault, he knew it. If he wouldn’t have humped him like a horny asshole none of this would have happened. 

Dean angrily wiped the tears away that build in his eyes, throwing the sponge and knife he’s holding into the sink with enough force to break one of the plates. 

“Fuck!” he yells, kicking his foot against the wood, almost breaking his damn toe with it, but he doesn’t care, can’t care at the moment. He’s so angry at himself, angry that he was the reason behind all this, the reason Sam was even more fucked up than he was ever before. 

“Dean!” Bobby’s angry voice sounds behind the older brother, behind him he can see Sam peeking out of the living room. “What ‘ya doing here? Wanna break my kitchen or what?” 

Dean snarls at him, but doesn’t say anything at first, simply grabs at the spot his necklace usually rests, only closing his hand around nothing. That’s when he snaps and his eyes glare daggers into Bobby. 

“Who cares if I do?” He yells at him, letting his anger out at the person who isn’t even responsible for this, but he can’t think right now. “This house will burn down either way, so who the fuck cares?” 

“Watch ya tone, son!”

“I’m not your son, you stupid old drunk!” Dean yells and then he just runs, pushes the older man aside and runs. Bobby tries to hold him back, but Dean is out of the house faster than lightning, his words hanging in the air, leaving Sam more shocked than ever before in his entire life. Dean flipping out like this, yelling at Bobby and running away; that wasn’t normal.

“Bobby… do you think he’s –“ Sam wants to say possessed, but he can’t get the word out. The thought alone of his brother not being his brother anymore, to be something dark and demonic – it’s too much to bear for him. Bobby understands him either way and shakes his head. He lays an arm around Sam, sighing and squeezing his shoulder.

“Let him be a while. Boy needs it.”

Sam nods sadly, maybe Bobby is right. He follows him back to the living room where Bobby was doing research and showing Sam some things he had found useful for him before. But now Sam isn’t eager to learn these things anymore. Everything in him screams to run after Dean, to bring him back, but he can’t even stand up anymore once he sat down. He holds the necklace that’s still around his neck tight, the metal pressing into his palm so hard it hurts.

After a few minutes he simply bursts out into tears, pressing his face against Bobby’s shoulder so he won’t see the desperation in his eyes and the words his lips are forming. He needs any form of comfort, even if the one he _truly_ needs is out of his reach.

“’s okay, kiddo. He’ll come back and he’ll be fine.”

Bobby holding him isn’t helping half as much as he wishes it would, but it makes the stinging pain in his chest ease a little bit. In Dean’s arms it would melt away completely, he knows it. In Dean’s arms everything would be alright like it always is.

“Yeah… I know.” Sam sniffs and forces himself to pull back, forces himself to stop crying like the baby he is. “I’ll go read a little. Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby smiles weakly and ruffles through Sam’s hair.

“It’ll be good, don’t worry. The boy can’t stay away for long.”

Sam stands up and hopes he is right. He walks to the front door, looking out for a moment and somehow he hopes Dean is just standing there, waiting for Sam to run after him; but his brother is nowhere to be seen. There is nothing but sadness and agony when Sam closes the door and walks up the stairs, into their room. Inside his eyes wander over the bed and the blanket on the floor, his eyes narrowed. He picks the blanket up, it looks like Dean was in a hurry getting out of bed, and threw it back on it.

He isn’t even able to move at first, he just stands there, in the middle of the room, looking at the bed. For weeks they’ve been sleeping in there together, holding each other every night. It hurts just looking at it and Sam knows why. Because of what he did before, even though it almost felt magical in his eyes. It was a mistake giving into this idea, wanting to know or even ask Dean what it felt like. But he can’t take it back anymore now, it’s over. Finally Sam walks over to the drawers and opens the one with Dean’s shirts.

It takes him a while until he finds the shirt he’s looking for, _the_ shirt, the one Dean is wearing the most. It’s just a simple black thing, nothing special, but when Sam lifts it to his face he can still smell Dean’s unique scent that not even water and soap could get out completely. Sam strips down to his boxers, folding his clothes neatly as usual before slipping into the way too big shirt that looks almost like a dress on him. But it doesn’t matter. He sits down on the bed and pushes himself back, wrapping the blanket around him as he does. He pulls it over his head, keeping Dean’s smell under it and keeping himself warm as he whispers a silent sorry to his brother who can’t hear him. More tears roll down his face, filled with regret and loneliness. He knew Dean was mad and it was probably his fault. He hurt him without knowing how or why and it breaks his heart into millions of pieces.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got a little short, I'm really sorry for that.

Dean is gone for a long time, so long that Sam, after crying his eyes out more than once, drifts into a horrible slumber. It’s dark outside already and for the first time in what seems like forever there is no one holding Sam, no one to keep the cold and the darkness away from him. Sam’s hand clings on the necklace, but this night it doesn’t help. His dreams are haunted from shadows he can’t make out and from horrible screams and sobbing he can never locate. Despite the thick blanket around him Sam shivers under it and curls into a ball. 

It’s eight in the evening when Bobby starts to worry and searches the savage and the surrounding grounds for Dean, but returns without him. Two hours later he hears the door screeching, just as he’s loading his shotgun to go look for the boy again. Dean steps into the living room when Bobby turns around and he looks like a horrible mess. The anger is gone, Bobby just walks over to him and pulls him into a strong and warm hug that the boy returns weakly. 

“Sorry I called you that, Bobby.” Dean mumbles against the older one’s chest and Bobby just nods, patting his back. 

“’s okay. Wasn’t even a lie after all. You better?” 

“Yeah… no… I dunno.” 

Dean had spent half the day either crying or yelling and kicking stones around in the forest. He ran until he collapses on the ground, even cut his cheek open at one point because a stone he kicked against a tree flew back right at him. He had cleaned the wound with water from the creek, not the spot he found Sam before though; he could never go back there.

“Care to tell me what happened?” Bobby asks, still worried and Dean shakes his head.

“Can’t.” He mumbles. If Bobby knew he would throw them out, hate them, reject them and never even look at them again and he couldn’t do this to Sam. Not this too.

“'Kay, but listen up, son, will 'ya?”

Dean just nods, unable to even look at Bobby right now. It’s almost as if the truth is written all over his face and he fears that Bobby will be able to read it the second he looks at him.

“Whatever happened, 'ya can’t just run. Running makes it worse.”

“But what if what I did is so bad that I can’t fix it?” Now Dean does look up, has to, because he needs to know the answer to this. He thought about it the whole time he was gone, how on earth he would be able to fix the damage he had caused, but he didn’t find the answer. He doesn’t even know if there is one.

“Then 'ya deal with the consequences, like a man. 'Ya not a kid anymore, Dean. 'Ya thirteen, ya gotta act like it.”

 _“That is exactly the problem”_ Dean thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Instead he pulls away from Bobby and looks down at his feet.

“I’m scared, Bobby.” He says before he can prevent the words from slipping. “Sammy is so grown up already, what if he decides he doesn’t need me, doesn’t want his big brother around anymore?”

“That’s whatcha worrying about, kiddo?” Bobby asks, giving him this weird look from before. Dean shrugs and sighs. “This kid adores 'ya. If he’s ever not needing 'ya he’s either dead or possessed by a demon.”

Dean flinches at Bobby’s words and he can’t help but imagine his brother dead on the floor, empty eyes staring at him, _blaming_ him for it. He shakes his head and tries to get rid of this picture, rid of this scary feeling of losing Sam.

“I just think we’re growing apart.” Dean says and presses his teeth together to not add _“And I wish we would grow closer instead.”_.

“’Course you are, he’s nine and still a kid and ‘ya becoming an adult. But it’ll change again soon.”

“I hope so. Bobby… if – if dad won’t come back…” his voice fails him, not because he wants john to come back, but because he doesn’t.

“That son of a bitch's coming back sooner or later, trust me.” Bobby snarls and Dean can hear that he’s angry at their dad for dropping them off and leaving for so long without a word.

“But if not – can we stay here?” Dean asks carefully. If they can’t stay someone will come and take Sam away from him and it’s the last thing he wants to happen.

“C’mere, kiddo.” Bobby says and pulls Dean into his arms again. “'Ya can stay here as long as 'ya want, okay? Don’t ever think I’d throw 'ya out into the cold alone.”

Dean suppressed the feeling that builds up in his throat, this feeling before he’s about to cry again, and just nods silently. He knows Bobby’s telling the truth, he wouldn’t throw them out. He was bore of a father than their own had ever been and he cared for them, cared for Sam. If only Johns wouldn’t come back; Sam could go to school in a few weeks, he could have the life he _deserved_.

“’s okay, kiddo. ‘s all okay.”

It takes Dean a few minutes before he’s able to speak and what comes out of his mouth surprises him.

“I could need a beer now.”

Bobby pushed him away, an arm length between them and looks at the boy surprised; before be starts laughing from deep inside.

“I’ll give ‘ya one and if 'ya tell someone I’ll refuse to know ‘ya.”

At this Dean has to laugh too, can’t hold it in when Bobby goes over to the fridge and takes two bottles out of it. They sit down on his old couch while Bobby opens them and gives one of the bottles to Dean. It’s his first time and when he swallows the golden liquid he almost chokes at first. Still, two or three sips later he can somehow understand why the adults drink it. He starts to like the taste a little.

He finishes the bottle surprisingly fast for his terms, maybe just because he didn’t drink anything since noon and he was eager to know what effect it would have on him. Twenty minutes later the bottle was empty and he put the bottle on the table.

“Now get away, son, or I’ll regret I gave it to ‘ya.” Bobby crackles and Dean nods, knowing he will not.

When he stands up his head feels light and is spinning a little, a feeling he really likes somehow. He’s not drunk, no, even for a thirteen year old body one beer isn’t enough to get drunk, but he feels a little tipsy and he isn’t worrying as much as before now; which is good.

Back in their room he thinks Sam is gone at first, but then he notices the blanket shaking and crawls over to his brother, not even bothering getting out of his clothes before he slips under the blanket next to him. He doesn’t dare touching Sam at first, but he can feel him shivering and can’t stand not wrapping his arms around him. How could he have stayed away for so long, leaving Sam all alone?

“Shh, ‘s okay, Sammy. I’m here, ‘s all good.” He whispered as he slowly pulled his brother into his arms, rocking him back and forth slightly. His hand brushes through Sam’s hair, as gentle as possible before he nuzzles his face against the younger one’s neck.

Sam mumbles something in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake up. He’s too far gone, almost blacked out instead of sleeping. But he knows something has changed, because those horrible nightmares become less. They are still there, but they can’t _hurt_ him anymore. His body relaxes a little in his brother’s arms and his breath goes smoother, enough to make Dean sigh relieved.

It’s hot under the blanket, too hot for Dean to properly breathe, so he pulls the thick thing away from them, down to his knees. The way Sam lays in his arms now, clearly wearing one of Dean’s shirts and the necklace around his neck; it’s almost as beautiful as what he saw before. Dean fights the urge to look down his body, down to Sam’s legs shoved between his, to see him as anything else than Sam for the moment. Because this is his Sam, his brother, the one he loves so dearly. Still, he wants to kiss him so badly now, kiss these swollen lips that are close to his hands, so absolutely stunning in his eyes. Instead he presses the kiss he needs to give him on Sam’s forehead and his lips stay there for a little longer than they should. Long enough, in fact, that Sam shifts in his arms and turns around, now for the first time ever turning his back at Dean.

He should take it as Sam rejecting him, but he doesn’t. It’s not what Sam does. Dean changes his position, spooning Sam from behind and pulling him as close to himself as he can without one of them being uncomfortable. He carefully shoves his knee between Sam’s legs, who more than willingly makes space for him, and Dean takes the invitation. His face against Sam’s neck, hands around his body and holding him, he takes a deep breath. They don’t usually sleep like this, but Dean likes it somehow. He doesn’t feel Sam’s breath, but he is so warm against him that he doesn’t really mind.

It’s weird, but Dean really falls asleep fast this night. Holding Sam like this is kinda soothing and maybe it helps his brother too, because he stopped shaking and is now relaxed against him, warm and cozy. Before he drifts away Dean takes one last deep breath, apologizing to Sam for just running away and leaving him all alone. He still can’t forget what he had witnessed, what he had done himself before, but maybe it will still be okay. As long as he has Sam he doesn’t think anything can be _too_ wrong.

After Dean is gone and Bobby starts cleaning up his table before going to bed himself his phone rings, surprising given how late it already is. He still picks up, not really surprised that John Winchester is the one calling.

“Ya’ better have a fuckin’ explanation for staying away so long, boy.” Bobby growls.

“I do, but that’s not why I’m calling. Tell the boys I’ll pick them up tomorrow. I –“

Bobby cuts him off, now for the first time since John basically dropped Sam and Dean off on his lawn _really_ angry. “ _No_ , ‘ya won’t! Leave them alone for a while, will ‘ya? I know they’re your boys and that’s fine, but give them some fuckin’ time to be kids!”

The line cracks a few times, but John is silent. Bobby already thinks he hung up on him when he hears his voice again, silent.

“I really fucked up this time, Bobby.” He sighs.

“Yeah, tell me a story.” Bobby rolls his eyes and plops back on the couch, listening to John’s reasons. They aren’t good, they aren’t even close to good, but Bobby doesn’t really care. He tells John again that he should just leave the boys with him for a few more weeks, promises him he’ll take care of them.

“Why should I do that? I need them.”

“No.” Bobby sighs and rubs his forehead. “’Ya need _Dean_. ‘Ya need your little soldier. And I tell ‘ya what, he’s not that. ‘Ya don’t give a damn about Sam, but Dean does. Let Dean have some time with his brother before ‘ya fuck up their life again.”

There isn’t much John can say about this, mainly because he knows Bobby is right. So he promises to call in a week, see how things are going and then decide what he’ll do. Bobby was never so glad when he finally hung up on someone. He gets off the couch, grabs another beer from the fridge, and sighs.

A week at least. A week so those two little idjits can solve their problems, whatever they are. Bobby doesn’t know and he’s not even sure _if_ he wants to know. Sam and Dean are different than the last time they were visiting. Something has changed and he doesn’t know what it is. It’s bugging him because he can see that something is wrong with Dean, that he blames himself for something. And Sam is just the same. He’s still the sweet and nice kid he knows, but there is a depth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Whatever these two got themselves into, they have to sort it out or it’ll get worse, that’s for sure. Of course it’s not his business, but he likes them a lot. It’s heartbreaking to see them drift apart, because it’s true what Dean said, despite Bobby’s protest. They are drifting apart and they both want to stop it, but they don’t know how to do it. It’s like seeing his own kids losing each other.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for this chapter I'll probably go to hell. Enjoy and send me some ice cream down there <3

They wake up at the same time, but neither Sam nor Dean notice at first. Sam’s eyes are still closed, his breath calm, but knowing that his brother came back, that he’s holding him again; it gives him so much. When Dean suddenly pulls him a little closer, obviously unaware that he is awake, he smiles. He can feel his whole body being pressed against his own, a certain part that is slightly harder than the rest, but Sam doesn’t mind, because it feels kinda good. He can feel warm breath against his neck that makes him shiver and he decides to let him know. 

“Dean…” he whispers his name silently. His brother stiffens for a moment, but then he relaxes against Sam again, all but this one part of him. 

“I’m sorry I ran away, baby boy.” 

This nickname Dean never used before does something weird to Sam. It hits a nerve deep in his stomach and twists it. He wants Dean to call him like that again, it sounds so sweet and right coming from him. 

“Don’t worry, you’re back now.” He cracks, voice hoarse suddenly. The tingling in his stomach is still there and somehow Sam likes it. It’s warm and good. Dean’s hands shift slightly, one resting on Sam’s belly, just above this tingling and the other above Sam’s holding the pendant. 

“You robbed me, you know that? That’s my stuff you’re wearing.” 

Sam chuckles slightly, and turns around in his brother’s arms, giving him a sheepish smile when the older one’s hands close behind his back and hold him tight. Dean blushes when Sam presses himself hard against him, especially against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Do you want me to get out of it or what?” Sam cocks, smirking. He takes the leather of the necklace and pulls it over his head, Dean’s eyes on him observing his every motion. When he puts it back on his brother, where it _belongs_ , he almost thinks Dean wants to say something, _do_ something, but he hesitates. 

What Dean _wants_ to do is rip this shirt off his brother and pin him down on the bed, kiss this cheeky mouth of him so he can’t breathe anymore. He knows wanting this is bad, as bad as his damn erection pressing against his brother again, but it’s still on his mind, teasing him, laughing about him that he doesn’t just do it already. Instead he moves a hand up, grabbing Sam’s wrist as he just pulls his hands back. He presses a soft kiss on each of his fingers, watching Sam closely as he does; and damn, his reaction is just _delicious_. 

Sam gasps when Dean’s lips touch him like this the first time, but with every kiss his surprise turns more and more into a sweet pleasure and he loves the feeling of his mouth against his skin, how he’s so tender with him, so careful. He doesn’t know why Dean does this, what he wants to achieve, but he turns Sam into a sweating and needs mess, whose underwear feels a lot tighter than before now. 

“D-Dean…” Sam stutters and at the sound Dean closes his eyes for a moment before he pulls away from his hand and looks back at him. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That's wrong.” He is half glad and half disappointed that Sam interrupted him and it seems like his brother feels just the same. After what Dean saw the day before he’s not really surprised. 

“N-no!” Sam gasps, cupping Dean’s cheek with one hand. “Don’t say that, please don’t.” 

“Sammy, I can’t. I want it so badly, but it’s _wrong_." 

It’s the first time they openly say it, or half-openly at least, that they both want something they can’t have. Dean already feels like a child molester, like a rapist even. He hates himself for his longings and yet he’s unable to ignore them, to not move his gaze down to Sam’s mouth and these sweet and inviting lips. 

“I – I just _can’t_ …” 

“Dean… it – it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong… I don’t care.” Sam pleads, begs him to just do it, but every muscle in the older one tenses at his words. Because he wants this so much and is unable to do it; all he wants is to seal Sam’s lips with his and lock all those worries away forever. 

“Sammy…” 

“No, call me that other name again.” 

Dean looks up, confused and also shocked a little. Sam looks so sweet and innocent, those big puppy eyes Dean loves so much sparkling, _longing_. He’s tempted between screwing all morals and just running away again, but he can’t let go of Sam, he can’t leave him alone, not now, not ever. He knows he shouldn’t say it, tell Sam to stop asking, to stop being so pushy, but he has no resistance in him anymore. 

“ _Baby boy._ ” He whispers the nickname softly, slow and it’s filled with all the love he feels for Sam, with everything he wants and needs and isn’t allowed to have. Dean fights against all his instincts, but in the end it’s Sam who finally does it, who leans up and presses his lips against his, almost shy. 

Dean closes his eyes, his hands on Sam’s back pulling him up a little, pressing them together and even if the kiss is sloppy and wet it’s the most amazing thing he ever felt in his whole life. Sam is soft and sweet, his warmth is overwhelming Dean and he can’t stop himself from moaning against the younger one’s lips. At the sound Sam opens his mouth slightly, inviting Dean; and his brother takes the chance, invades Sam’s mouth and fills his own with this sweetness that is so good, so _right_ , that he forgets who they are or where they are for a moment. It’s just Sam and him and this feeling of utter bliss and perfection. 

They pull away when they both need air, their foreheads resting against each other. They just breathe, their hearts racing in their chests that are so close together and god, Dean never felt so conflicted before. Nothing ever came _close_ to this experience, this kiss was like heaven and hell at the same time. He opens his eyes and looks at his brother, who still keeps his own shut and he loves the rosy cheeks, the beautiful color it paints his brother’s face with and before he can think he speaks again. 

“I saw you yesterday…” he breathes and at his words Sam’s eyes shoot open. He looks at him almost in panic. It’s a gorgeous sight and Dean’s eyes sparkle at him. “You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Sammy. God forgive me, I wanted to watch you forever like this.” 

Telling Sam this was so damn wrong, it was wrong on more levels than he could even count and they both knew it, but the way Sam’s face turns into a more intense shade of pink, how his eyes darken slightly; it's so worth committing this sin. 

“ _You watched me._ ” 

Sam’s whisper is so sweet and full of surprise that Dean smiles at him. 

“Oh yes, baby boy, I did.” He smirks and leans down to peck Sam’s lips quickly, too short for the other to even think about kissing back. “You were gorgeous in the water and touching yourself.” 

“Dean…” Sam whimpers hands dropping to his brother’s chest, shaking. 

Dean has to break the eye contact or he goes insane. Now that he allows himself for the first time to think of his little brother like this he buries his face in the crook of Sam's neck. 

“I thought about you, Dean.” Sam confesses and Dean can’t hold in a groan when he hears those words. He knows that of course, but hearing Sam actually say it is so damn _hot_. He can feel Sam shift in his arms so that his crotch is pressed against Dean’s and damn, his brother is as hard as he is himself. 

“God, Sammy… you drive me crazy.” 

It’s true, it’s exactly what Sam does, especially when he starts moving his hips against Dean’s, their cocks rubbing against the fabric separating them from each other and it’s a pressure that sends spirals of lust and pleasure through both of them. 

“I wanted you to touch me, Dean.” Sam purrs, the hot breath against his neck encouraging him even more. This is so good, so much better than when he did it alone and he doesn’t want it to stop. “I wanted your hands on me, your skin against mine and your hands down there, doing what I did.” 

Dean can barely hold himself together, if he’s even able to anymore. Damn, Sam is really good at talking like this and it turns him on more than he wants to admit. He moves his hands down Sam’s back, sliding them under his shirt to grab his hips. Sam is good, way too good for his level of experience, but Dean wants more, he _needs_ more; it’s impossible to not want it. 

When Dean starts guiding his movements Sam moans, the increased friction of them pressing together, rubbing and pushing, is so much that he can’t talk anymore. But he doesn’t need to. Now it’s Dean who leads him, Dean who finally does what Sam wants for months already, Dean who _knows_ what he’s doing. Sam trusts him completely, he knows Dean will do the right thing, will make this unforgettable for both of them.

Right now what they do doesn’t feel wrong for any of them, it’s just this heated moment that exists out of time, out of anything else in the world. It’s only them and that’s okay. 

“Baby boy, you’re so sweet against me.” Dean groans against Sam’s sensitive neck. He wants this just as much as Sam and he loves every second of it. With a silent and utterly aroused growl he crashes his lips against Sam’s, sucking on them, makes him moan in pleasure. His tongue easily slides into Sam’s mouth, who is more than ready when Dean grinds against him harder and fills him with this amazing taste again. 

Dean doesn’t break the kiss when he can feel it coming, he needs Sam as close as possible. He can hear Sam moan into the kiss, weak this time and feels the front of his jeans become wet and it’s more than he needs to join him, to make this moment perfect. He comes hard in his pants and it’s better than it was ever before, with this added friction that’s not his hand, with Sam’s smell all around him and his sweet taste; this is the fucking best moment in his life. 

Sam feels like he’s dying, when he came the day before it was nothing compared to this. His hands claw into Dean’s back as his hips jerk against him and he can’t hold this moan in, it’s impossible, it’s too damn good. His own cum mixes with Deans when he comes too and they both keep grinding against each other, completely lost in this moment and there is nothing else Sam can think of, nothing but Dean and how it feels to have this with him, to share this perfect moment with the one he loves most in his life. 

They hold each other in the afterglow, skins wet and sticky, but there’s a smile carved on both of their faces, faint and content. Dean broke the kiss shortly after his own climax and now he simply holds Sam, keeps him as close as he can, not wanting to let go. Because if he lets Sam go this moment is over, they’ll be back in the world, back in time and back to those horrible morals and restrictions the world has put on them. So he just lies there, feeling Sam calming down and presses kiss after kiss on the others skin wherever he can reach him. Assuring him it’s okay, even though it isn’t. Assuring him it’s not wrong, even though it is. Assuring _himself_ that it was not a mistake, even though he knows it _was_. 

“Dean?” 

Sam’s weak voice breaks the silence and the spell over them, but Dean knew it would happen. He’s not mad at him, right now he’s too damn messed up to be mad about anything, not even himself. 

“What is it?” he asks carefully, hoping Sam won’t say what he fears. But he doesn’t.

Sam moves and with this it’s almost as if everything crashes back down at them. The fact that they lie in Bobby’s guest room, in Bobby’s house, in a world that will never accept what they just did. Dean wants to push this thought away, but as much as he tries, it’s still nagging at him. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you to this. I just – I don’t know…” Sam looks away from his brother, but his hand automatically grabs for the necklace again. It’s his anchor, Dean knows it. 

“If anyone needs to be sorry it’s me.” Dean says, his hand covering Sam’s on his chest again. “I let you, I didn’t stop you.” 

“This will change everything, won’t it?” Sam asks and searches for Dean’s eyes again, but his brother shakes his head slowly. 

“It doesn’t have to. Not if you don’t want it.” He tells him. It’s what he wants to believe himself. That they can just be brothers again, that this doesn’t have to mean a thing. Even though for him it will _always_ mean something, no matter what else happens. He will never forget Sam’s beautiful heat when he kissed him, the taste in his mouth, the tightening in his chest that filled him with this amazing warmth. 

Sam is silent for a long time. He doesn’t know what to say, how to tell Dean that he wants both at the same time: keep him as his beloved big brother and love him like this, the way he’s not supposed to. How can he tell his big brother that what just happened means so much more to him than anything else? That _he_ means so much more. So he doesn’t say anything, just snuggled closer against his brother, ignoring that his underwear is sticking on him and that he feels dirty and guilty. 

Dean wraps his arm around Sam, accepts his silence because he has no idea what to say himself. He’s just glad Bobby didn’t notice anything, he’d have burst into the room already if he did. What just happened is only between him and Sam; and that’s good. They don’t even have to talk now, they both need rest and have to get the last day off, where too much happened and too many tears have been shed. The older one smiles a little when he closes his eyes and can just hold in a chuckle, thinking about how this room smells so much like those motels they hit so often, where John said they smelled of “sex, drugs and rock 'n roll”. Now Dean knows what he meant, but it’s not a bad smell in his eyes, not like this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter where times goes by rather slow. But there's still so much more to come, so stay tuned!

A loud knock makes Dean shoot up from the mattress, pulling Sam with him without even realizing it. He’s confused as to why the knocking is still going, confused as to why it’s bright daylight outside and they’re still sleeping.

 “Get out of bed, ‘ya morons!” 

Now it clicks, slowly everything that happens clicks together and Dean’s heart feels heavy in his chest. 

“Coming!” 

Sam answers to his surprise and when he looks down he meets eyes that are awake for quite some time already. Bobby grunts and walks away and Dean just stares at Sam, at the smile on his face that looks so different today, a little less innocent. It gives him a little sting, but before he knows Sam presses his lips against Dean’s and he sighs, giving into this nice way of waking up. They barely move their lips, but it feels good nonetheless. Dean’s hand runs through the short hair on Sam’s neck, too shot to grab it, but enough to give his fingers something to feel while Sam’s sweet lips are on him. 

“What was that for?” Dean asks smirking when Sam pulls away and the others cheek turn into this beautiful shade of pink again. 

“For coming back.” Sam breathes and Dean’s eyes fill with a heavy sadness. 

“Oh Sammy…” he whispers and cups his brother’s cheek gently. “Don’t you _ever_ think I won’t come back to you.” He is strict when he says those words, but not in a mean way. Sam thinking that he would stay away breaks his heart “I will _always_ come back to you. I’d even crawl out of hell to come back to you.” 

Sam’s eyes get wet, but before anything else can happen Dean pulls him into his arms and he presses his face against his big brother’s shoulder. It’s all he needs now and Dean seems to know exactly that he does. 

When Dean pulls back he notices that Sam looks different. He’s not wearing his shirt anymore, instead he put on some shorts and one of his own shirts and now he also smells different, fresh and a little like… peaches. 

“Did you shower?” Dean raises a brow and Sam smiles a little. 

“You were still asleep, I stayed a little but then I felt dirty and, yeah.” His smile turns a little smug when he says he felt dirty and Dean knows exactly why. “I showered, changed and came back.” 

Dean is surprised that he came back when he could have gone down instead, but then he remembers Sam spent half the last day alone and understands. He stretches his neck, the cracking in his bones a little annoying like every morning, but it’s fine. 

“I should shower too, huh? I stink.” Dean grins, but to his surprise Sam shakes his head and comes closer, sniffing on him like a little puppy. 

“You smell good.” Sam grins and then he seriously shoots up and presses a kiss on Dean’s neck, who’s more than shocked by this sudden behavior of his little brother. “But you have this smell on you.” 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

Sam sits back on his feet and looks at Dean confused. The older one returns the same look for a moment before he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Sorry, Sammy. I – I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Don’t be mad okay?” He mumbles. He doesn’t want Sam to think that he doesn’t like what he just did, that he wouldn’t want it. But he’s still confused by what they did last night, still confused as to how he feels and what he wants; he doesn’t know what to do and he hates it. He’s the older one, he’s _supposed_ to know what to do, dammit! 

“Not mad Dean.” Sam says, the smile still not gone completely, even if it looks a little weaker now. “I’ll go down and tell Bobby you’ll come, okay?” 

Before Dean has a chance to answer Sam slides off the bed, but within a second Dean manages to grab his arm before he can go completely. He needs to hold Sam back, needs him to know he’s not rejecting him, that he never will. Sam looks at him, this puzzling gaze Dean loves so much. The older one shoves himself closer so he can sit and pull Sam between his open legs, hold him for a moment. 

“I don’t regret anything, okay?” he says honest and serious, his green eyes locked with Sam’s awing hazel ones. 

“Okay.” Sam just answers, silently. Dean grabs his neck gently and pulls him down, kissing him again. This time it’s a sweet and warm kiss, just showing Sam that it’s okay and he doesn’t have to worry. 

“See you soon.” Sam smiles when Dean pulls back and the older one nods, watching his brother leave. Dean doesn’t really want to waste time, so he quickly rushes into the bathroom before Bobby yells again. 

Meanwhile Sam walks down the stairs and it feels like his feet are barely touching the floor at all. He still feels hot from this last kiss, his cheeks slightly flushing. But it’s a good feeling and he’s not even mad at Dean for his reaction earlier. He went a little too far, that’s all. 

“Hey, kiddo. Where’s the big one?” Bobby asks when he looks up from his newspaper. 

“Taking a shower.” Sam shrugs, trying not to let Bobby know how fucking happy he is compared to yesterday. He quickly grabs a soda from the fridge before returning to the living room. “What’s up?” 

“John called. Said he’ll call again in a week, busy with some cases.” 

“I thought so.” Sam sighs and sits down, pulling his legs under him. “Did he say when he’ll pick us up?” 

“Wanted to do it today, but I washed that idjit’s brain. ‘Ya got a week at least.” Bobby doesn’t sound too happy, but Sam can’t tell if it’s because of their dad calling him or that they’ll stay longer. “Did ‘ya talk?” 

Sam looks at Bobby like a deer in the headlights, totally struck by this question. He doesn’t know what to say, they didn’t really talk but he doesn’t want to tell Bobby that they didn’t, he would think they were mad at each other or whatever. Before he can say something stupid Dean shows up, a towel in his hand and rubbing his hair dry. Sam was never so glad to see him. 

“We’re good again, aren’t we, Sammy?” he asks and ruffles Sam’s hair. 

“Yeah – yeah. We talked, it’s okay.” 

“Good. ‘Ya two acting so weird is damn annoying.” Bobby grunts, but still grins a little. “Make yourself useful and get some wood, will ‘ya?” 

“It’s summer, Bobby! You don’t need wood!” Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, but the look Bobby gives him shows exactly that this was the wrong answer. 

“’Ya eat my food, ‘ya sleep in my house, ‘ya gotta earn it, boy. Understood?” 

Dean rolls his eyes again, but in a way Bobby doesn’t see it this time and holds in a laugh. “Yessir.” 

So it’s settled. Dean quickly finishes to dry his hair while Sam gathers a rope to tie stuff together, they both know Bobby probably just wants some peace and they only have to get sticks and such today. He waits for his big brother outside, the rope safely tied around his waist because he doesn’t want to carry it all the time. Thank god he decided to wear shorts because it’s damn hot outside and he’ll sweat like a pig either way, but like this it’s bearable right now. 

“Geez, Sammy.” He can hear Dean inhale sharply and looks over his shoulder, both amused and a tiny bit startled. “If you want to tease me you’re doing a damn good job, you know that?” 

“It’s _hot_ , Dean, I’m not _teasing_ you.” Sam chuckles, but he understands why Dean said that. These shorts _are_ pretty short and tight, he can’t help it. He grew a lot over the last year and needs new ones. “Sorry.” 

“Forget it.” Dean grins, walking over to his brother. “What do you think, get Bobby some wood and try to catch some fish again?” 

“Maybe.” Sam smirks and they walk into the woods, once they are out of sight he immediately takes one of Dean’s hands. It comes naturally, not even on intention. He just likes holding Dean and know he’s there. And Dean doesn’t mind, he just holds Sam as he always does, smile on his face. 

It doesn’t take long until they gathered a pretty good bunch of big sticks and small branches, neatly piled up so they can tie them together later to carry them back. It seems like Sam was a little careless with the rope though, because when he tries to take it off his waist it somehow builds a knot he isn’t able to open again. He fiddles on it, breaking out into sweat as he hisses and huffs and pulls on that damn rope that just won’t come off. 

“Oh come on, god fucking _dammit_! What the hell is this?” 

Sam doesn’t know that Dean stands a few feet away and stares at his struggle with a mix of amusement and arousal on his face. Sam is so damn fascinating like this, fighting and with his muscles tensing and relaxing. Dean’s head runs wild with the idea of taking the rope and tying him up against a tree. Oh, how Sam would whimper under him and fight against the rope and he would give him those damn hot pleading eyes again Dean just can’t resist. 

“ _Dean!_ Come here, dammit!” Sam yells loud, throwing his brother out of his daydreaming. The branches in his hands fall down as he scurries towards his brother, a hand grabbing the rope he untied already and pulling him towards him. 

“God, Sam, don’t do this. Stop being so fucking hot or I can’t hold it together.” He groans a warning, but still pulls his brother into a kiss that is so needy right now that he hates himself for it, for pushing his sick fantasies on Sam even more than he already did. 

“Dean, the rope _hurts_.” Sam whimpers when his brother pulls away and that turns the older one’s head back on completely. God, what is he _doing_? Dean kneels down and with some effort he manages to untie the damn knot that trapped Sam for the last five minutes. When he drags himself back up he cups his face with both hands and rubs the tears from his cheeks, coming from both anger and pain. He presses a soft and apologetic kiss on his lips, scolding himself for his actions before. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” He whispers, his hands moving down to Sam’s stomach. “Lemme see how it looks.” Carefully he slides the shirt up, revealing some red burns where his shirt was pushed up before and the rope almost cut into Sam’s skin. Dean brushes his thumps over them carefully, kissing every inch of those hurting marks that don’t belong there. Sam’s hands fall on Dean’s shoulders and squeeze them as he whimpers under the touch, so much that Dean looks up at him. “Does it hurt?” He asks. 

Sam shakes his head, pulling Dean a little closer again. 

“Want me to continue?” Dean asks with a smile and this time Sam nods and leans against the tree behind him. The older one continues kissing those burn marks, making a mental note for himself that one day he will mark Sam himself, but he’ll do it better, he’ll do it so Sam will _love_ it. The burns aren’t bad, they’ll be gone in a few days, but Dean still presses soft kisses along all three of them, enjoying how Sam’s breath changes from hitching so a soft and constant purring. When he’s done he runs his fingers over them one last time before pulling the shirt back down and standing up. “Better?” 

“Much better, yeah.” Sam smirks. It still hurts a little, but with dean being so caring and sweet it was bearable. Sam doesn’t even mind what he did before, how rough he was all of a sudden. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me, I almost lost control when you struggled like this.” Dean says and grabs the rope from the ground before turning around and collecting the last pieces of wood he collected before. He doesn’t speak when he ties the huge bundle they piled up together, he can’t speak. This image is still so clear in his mind that it’s almost horrible. He doesn’t want to hurt Sam, he never could, but still his sick brain wants to tie him up and make him beg Dean to stop. What kind of love was that? 

_“That’s not_ love _, you sick bastard. That’s disgusting. Just like you for thinking like this about your brother.”_

Yes, it’s true, he can’t deny that this trail of thoughts is absolutely right. He already messed Sam up even more and now he thinks about making it even worse. How can he not hate himself for that? 

Suddenly a warm and small hand is on his shoulder and Dean looks up. 

“Are you guilt tripping yourself again, big brother?” Sam asks with a sad voice and Dean sighs, shaking his head. It’s like his little brother can look right through him and it feels strange. 

“No, I – I don’t. I’m sorry, really, Sam. I didn’t want to hurt you or lose control.” 

Sam frowns at his words. “You didn’t do anything. The _rope_ hurt me, Dean, not _you_.” He has no idea why Dean blames himself for something _he_ was responsible for. 

Dean doesn’t know what to say about this. He can’t tell Sam what he thought about doing to him, no way. What they did the night before was wrong enough, that they were still _kissing_ was wrong enough. He turns back around, finishing the knots so the whole bunch won’t fall down on them, without saying anything. He wants to tell Sam to forget what happened, but he can’t. Because he loves Sam’s lips against his, he loves to hold him, to smell him, he loves _everything_ about his little brother. But he loves him the wrong way, he knows it, Sam knows it too. But somehow Sam seems to accept this more easy than Dean can even think of. 

When he’s done Dean stands up and gives Sam a weak smile before he lifts the pretty heavy bundle up and holds the rope so he can carry it on his shoulders. It’s really heavy, but the weight gets a little less suddenly and when he looks over his shoulder he can see Sam helping him. His smile turned a little stronger at this and they walked back to Bobby, both working pretty hard to get this huge thing home. 

Bobby doesn’t complain about the amount they got, but grunts a little when Dean asks him for some balm for Sam because of his little accident earlier. In the evening, before the two boys go to bed, he gives him a pot for his brother, promising him in the morning it would be better already. Dean hopes he is right, he hates those streaks on Sam that don’t belong there and scar his perfect skin so much. 

Sam is already in bed when Dean comes up and as much as the older one just wants to curl up with his brother he needs to do this first. 

“Do me a favor and pull your shirt up Sam, will you?” He asks softly as he lays down next to him, the pot of balm in his hands, hidden from Sam’s eyes. 

“What do you want to do?” Sam wants to know a little confused, but dean shakes his head. 

“Just do it and trust me, okay?” 

Sam can’t argue with that. Of course he trusts his big brother, there is no doubt about that. So he does as Dean said and lifts his shirt up, revealing those unpleasant marks. Dean brings the balm into view, opens the pot and takes some of the thick white stuff out with his fingers. 

“Relax.” He says when he rubs it into his hands. Carefully to not hurt Sam he lays his hands on his brother’s hips, massaging the balm into the skin and over the burns. The younger one hisses at the first touch, but when Dean starts moving his hands tenderly over him he really relaxed and even starts liking the feeling. It doesn’t take long until Dean is done and signs Sam to turn around. He repeats the same procedure on his back. Sam purrs happily when Dean pulls his shirt back down and he smiles up at him. 

“Thanks for that, Dean.” 

“Always, Sammy.” Dean chuckles, puts the balm on the nightstand and cuddles up with his little brother again like they always do. 

They are already half asleep when Sam suddenly mumbles something, his voice only a whisper in the darkness. Still, it stings through Dean’s heart like a knife. 

“You’re the best big brother in the world.” 

“And you’re the best little brother in the world.” Dean has to say it, because it’s true. But he’s not the best big brother, in fact he’s the worst big brother Sam could ever have. A good big brother wouldn’t have these thoughts or feelings. Dean can’t change these feelings, he tried it often enough. But he knows that he will do anything for Sam, anything to make him happy and to let him know he’s loved.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds a nice way of giving Sam unforgettable birthday presents in this ;)

They had two weeks with Bobby left before John came and picked them up, dragged them both back into the hunting life and honestly, Dean hated him for it. He hated him for the look in Sam’s eyes, this disappointed and hurt look that made him want to punch their dad in the face. Dean had to switch into his protective brother mode again, keep Sam away from the horrors of the night and everything. 

It wasn’t easy, but he managed. Again he brought Sam to school in the morning and picked him up later, helped him with his homework and tried his best to give him a childhood as normal as he could. During the day that was. At night he kept holding Sam, never letting him go for a second. Whenever their dad wasn’t in the motel with them things were a little different though. 

Sam was needy, clingy and craving for his brother’s approval and affections, more than ever before. They were still brothers during the day, but at night they were a little more even. Both of them didn’t understand why they needed this so badly, why they longed for the other in this twisted and sick way, but it didn’t matter. When Sam’s lips were on Dean’s the younger one forgot the world and what was wrong in his life and mind. He lost himself in Dean, in his eyes and their kisses and those strong hands on his skin. 

It was hard for Dean at first, to push the guilt and bad feeling about this away. He always thought he would make everything worse if he gave Sam what he wanted, but his brother needed him. It was a sick way of showing him how much he loved him, but it made Sam happy and that’s why Dean did it. They never went further though. Sometimes they were touching themselves while they kissed, but never the other. Dean’s hands were everywhere on Sam’s body, except between his legs, but Sam didn’t mind. 

On Sam’s tenth’ birthday Dean gave him a special gift, he would give him one on every birthday in the future, even though he didn’t know that back them. It was the first time _Dean_ touched him down there, the first time Dean’s hands worked on his cock and coaxed moans of new found pleasures from him. Sam never came harder, when he spilled over Dean’s hand he almost screamed his name, so loud that Dean had to shush him with a kiss so he wouldn’t wake up everyone else in the motel. 

It became Sam’s new favorite thing, Dean’s fingers trailing down his abdomen, over his hard and twitching cock that desperately needed his attention. And when Dean stroke him, pinched his skin and whispered in his ear how beautiful and perfect he was he could never hold it long. He never thought about himself as beautiful or anything else Dean called him, but whenever his brother said something like this be believed him. Because Dean was never lying to him, never hurting him. Dean was the only one who cherished him, who loved him and adored him. 

Everything between them evolved slow, but they had all the time in the world. When Sam turned eleven it was his turn to show Dean how much he learned during the last year, he had begged for months and on this day Dean allowed his brother to touch him, to give him the same he had given him for so long. And Sam was good, he was so good working on him with his fast growing hands and those sparkling eyes when he watched what he did. He always watched, whether Dean was giving him a handjob or the other way around. Sometimes Dean thought Sam had a slight kink for watching like this. 

The hardest time for Dean came when Sam’s twelfth birthday came closer. The boy had grown quite a bit, he was slender and trained, his hair getting a little longer because they never found the time to cut it properly. His face was still as pretty as it had always been, with almost a feminine touch to it. Sam was a tease on two legs and even looking at him gave Dean one or two very inappropriate boners in the wrong situations. What was worse though, and Dean hated himself for it, was that he was very attractive to girls around him. 

There was rarely a day when Sam left school, so Dean could pick him up, without girls surrounding him, giving him hearteyes and adoring smiles. His little brother was mature for his age, even if he still slept in Dean’s arms at night. Those girls didn’t know it. They had no idea what Sam did with his brother late at night, how they panted under each other’s hands, sometimes working each other up for hours before finally finding release and fall back onto the bed in exhaustion. 

This year, when John is once again gone on Sam’s birthday, Dean decides it’s time to show Sam something really good. Dean is sixteen by now and for almost a year, ever since Sam started jerking him off so good and sweet, he had the urge for more. He knew Sam was too young to even think about something like this, so much he still knew in all this mess, so he started dating girls. 

They weren’t Sam and none of them could make him feel only half as good as when he was with him, but it didn’t matter. He never needed more than two or three dates until they got it on, Dean was charming and bewitching them until they gave themselves to him. None of these girls mattered, but they gave him what he couldn’t have from Sam. When he was buried inside them, the first times awkward and strange, he always imagined it was Sam he was fucking, Sam who was moaning and panting under him. He always picked girls with hazel eyes and long, brunette hair, always tall and pretty and slender. This way he was able to see Sam in them a little and that was all he really wanted. 

Of course he won’t do this to Sam, despite his brother longing for his touches and for the release they give him. Fucking Sam like he fucks those girls would destroy what they have. This isn’t about sex, not really. It’s about Dean adoring and worshipping his brother, about giving him all the love he deserves. It’s about showing Sam how perfect he is and how he would do anything for him. 

Sam comes home later, alone this time, because they had a small party for him in class like they always do when it’s someone’s birthday, but that’s okay. John is gone, Dean already waiting for Sam in the motel. When his brother comes through the door, whipping his hair out of his face because it’s windy outside, his face lightens up. He loveshow Sam’s hair is long enough to grab it now, to entangle his fingers in it when they kiss. It’s pure ecstasy and maybe Dean has a kink too, one for Sam’s soft hair. 

“Nice day?” Dean asks Sam when the younger one puts his bag down and Sam smiles. 

“Yeah, it was nice. They brought cake and music, we had some fun.” 

“I want to give you something special, baby boy.” Dean growls with a deep and arousing voice and Sam stiffens. It’s the same voice Dean uses every year to announce he will do something new, the same words even, and Sam starts to shiver in anticipation. 

“W-what is it?” He asks carefully and watches his brother come closer. 

Lately Dean looks even more ravishing than before, in fact he is hot as hell in Sam’s eyes. And now that he has this seductive smile on his lips and his green eyes gleam with lust Sam’s knees become weak. 

“Something good, Sammy.” Dean purrs and carefully pushes a streak of Sam’s hair behind his ear. He leans down and presses a kiss on the sensitive spot right behind his ear, knowing it will make Sam melt against him like it always does. The sigh escaping the younger one’s lips tells him he’s right. 

“Dean, what –“ 

“Shh, baby boy. It’s your birthday, it’s time for your gift.” Dean cuts him off, sucking on his long neck and lets his tongue play on him. Sam is weak against him and he can easily pick him up and carry him over to the bed as he pressed his lips against his. Those wonderful moments have become less over the last weeks and Dean _hates_ it. Sam is moving away from him and he wants him close, it’s selfish, he knows. But when he lays him down on the bed and he’s all spread out and looking up at him with his big eyes he can’t feel guilt. Sam is _his_ , he always was. 

“What’s my gift?” Sam asks, but Dean shakes his head and puts a finger to his lips. 

“Undress.” He simply says. It’s yet another fucked up thing, but Dean loves watching how Sam strips his clothes off; and Sam loves when he watches. They never said it, never had to, because when Sam pulls the shirt over his head Dean’s lips are pressed against his harshly the moment his face is free again and Sam pulls him closer, longing, almost greedy for more. When Sam continues to undress he does it slow so Dean can watch everything and he needs his hungry eyes on him. 

Sam is down to his boxers when Dean lays a hand on his, just the moment he pushes his thumps into them. 

“No. Not this time.” Dean smirks and moves between Sam’s legs, perfectly spread for him already. “Sammy, do you trust me? I mean, really?” He asks, hands resting on his brother’s hips. 

“Y-yes… yes I do.” Sam’s voice is hoarse already, even if he has no idea what Dean is about to do. Yes, he had given him some amazing gifts the last years, he hoped for something like this now too, but Dean confuses him, if only a little. 

“I will never hurt you, Sammy.” Dean says and leans down, his hands slowly stroking over Sam’s thighs before he presses his lips against them, starting at his knee and slowly brushing over the skin while moving up. “I will never do anything you don’t want me to do.” He whispers against his skin, Sam shivering under him as if he’s giving him the sweetest sensations already. 

And he does, he really does. Sam is panting, Dean’s words lovely and still somehow confusing. 

“I know, Dean. You never would.” 

Dean smirks against Sam’s skin, closing the last distance between his face and the tent that had built in his bothers boxers by now. Sam gasps when Dean brushes his lips over the fabric and pushes himself up on his elbows. 

“D-Dean?” he whispers. 

“Wanna make you feel good, Sammy…” Dean whispers, eyes locking with his brother’s. “Wanna make you feel _really_ good.” 

“Please, Dean… do it…” Sam gasps at his hot breath against his cock that’s twitching in his boxers. 

“I will, baby boy. I will.” 

Dean slowly pulls Sam’s boxers down, his hard cock jumping out of them, already leaking with precum. He licks his lips, eager to finally do it, to finally taste Sam like this and make him lose his mind. His fingers trail over Sam’s thighs, enjoying the sighs and shivers he earns as a reward. 

“Close your eyes for me.” He whispers, placing another kiss just between Sam’s legs where they are the most sensitive. He doesn’t even have to look, he knows that Sam does it. 

“Dean… please… please do it.” The younger one begs. Now he knows what Dean wants to do and he can’t wait for it, wants to feel his brothers lips on him, his tongue, everything. 

With a low growl Dean turns his head and his tongue darts out, licking over Sam’s hard and pulsating cock from the root to the tip. Sam moans loud and pleased, encouraging Dean more with each second. His lips close around Sam’s cock, tongue circling over the tip and licking away the sweet cum on it. Dean closes his eyes at the taste he can only describe with one word: Sam. He lets out a deep moan, sending vibrations through Sam’s cock that make him pant and wince even more. Dean can’t help but let go of him for a second, smirking. 

“Do you like that, baby boy?” he purrs and Sam nods eagerly. His hands reach down, find Dean’s hair and grab it, and the older one loves the reaction, how much Sam enjoys it. 

“More, Dean, please. More.” 

“You beg so sweet, Sammy.” Dean hums before he places a kiss on Sam’s shaft, then taking him into his mouth again. God, he loved this, the idea of sucking Sam for the first time, of being the first to ever do this, to ever taste Sam like this. Dean is able to take him in completely with ease, he’s not even gagging when he does. His tongue circles along his cock before he sucks and when he starts Sam begins rocking his hips against him. 

Sam just can’t hold on. One of his hands is holding Dean’s hair, holding him down in desperation as his other hand grips the sheets until his knuckles turn white. It’s impossible to stop moaning, to not move when Dean sucks on him like this. 

“Oh god, Dean… it’s so good…” he’s just babbling, trying not to cum right there and then. Sam wants it to last as long as he can and he starts rocking his hips, thrusting into his brother’s hot and wet mouth. He just wants more and more, he needs it so badly. 

Dean can’t believe how hot Sam reacts, how he basically fucks his mouth, but it’s so damn good that he goes with it, lets him thrust into him deeper and deeper, so much that he does start to gag, but it only makes everything better. It’s more than they ever did, this goes far beyond just hand fucking each other, but there is nothing but pure lust he feels and his own cock is hard and leaking already. Dean wants to do this to Sam too, to fuck his mouth like this and for him to give him the same pleasure, but he knows better than that. Another day maybe, now it’s about Sam and about giving him all he can. 

“F-fuck, Dean! I – I --- “ 

Sam’s voice fails him when he cums deep in Dean’s mouth as the older one hollows his cheeks. He’s seeing stars and black dots before his eyes, lids fluttering half open as Dean’s name leaves his lips like a prayer and he keeps fucking into his brother’s so delicious mouth, riding his orgasm out like this and the fast that Dean swallows his cum down and keeps sucking and moaning takes his breath away. 

Dean knows Sam good enough by now to know when he’s close. He creamed his pants when Sam spilled into his mouth, He doesn’t even need to touch himself a single time, all this so much better than he expected. He swallowed it without wasting a single drop, flooding his mouth with this intense sweet taste of his brother, so much better than anything else he ever tasted. It took long until he stopped sucking Sam, long until he was even able to, because he never wanted this to end. 

When Sam is nothing more than a panting mess Dean pulls back, swearing that he would do this again as soon as Sam wanted him to, and crawls over to him. 

“Happy Birthday, baby boy.” He whispers before his lips find Sam’s and they both drown in an amazingly deep and passionate kiss, one that Sam even deepens more once he can taste himself. He cups Dean’s face, his tongue, getting better each time they do this, explores his mouth and takes all of him in, for minutes it seems. 

When they finally part Dean grabs behind him and pulls the blanket over them both, too lazy to clean himself or to get Sam dressed or to even think about leaving him for a single moment. Sam scoots closer, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and nuzzles his face against his shirt. 

“Best birthday ever…” he whispers silently and Dean gently wipes the hair from his eyes and kisses his forehead. Sam is happy, that’s all he needs to be happy too. 

This selfish little voice inside him starts talking again, assuring him that this will make Sam cling on him for a little longer, but he pushes it away. It’s not about that, he knows it now. It was never about his brother clinging on him, needing him. It was about how much Dean was willing to give him and the answer was very simple if he was brutally honest. 

He would give Sam _everything_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be fluffy, but it turned into full on angst. I hope you don't hate me for it :/
> 
> Warning for: angst, throwing up, suicide attempt of sorts?

Two years and countless of beds later Dean comes to the conclusion that he has a _real_ problem. Not that he doesn’t already for his whole life, but things with Sam are… difficult. He’s fourteen now, a real rebel and while Dean is extremely proud of him for standing up for himself it also means something else: that he rebels against his brother. It’s been quite some time now that things between them are – _cold_. Sam is a damn womanizer now, even if he doesn’t even try; they fall for him faster than flies. Not that Dean would be the Virgin Mary himself, but it never _means_ anything for him. It seems that it means something for _Sam_ though and that’s what’s breaking his heart every single day. 

They sleep in two beds now, six months ago Sam just didn’t want to sleep in the same bed anymore and took the couch. That’s when things started to change between them. They still have their nightly adventures, not as often as before, but at least once or twice a week. The only difference now is that it’s losing what it once was. It feels like an exercise they have to do instead of really _wanting_ it, at least for Dean. He doesn’t know what it’s like for Sam, who stopped moaning his brother’s name a while ago already, but he feels that it doesn’t hold any magic in it anymore; not like it used to. 

So eventually, when Sam one day does come to Dean, his brother turns around. He can’t take it like this anymore. He can’t stand Sam’s empty face, his stiff movements, the _silence_ between them that just won’t go away. Sam accepts the rejection without even so much as a word, he just crawls back into his own bed and Dean covers his head with a pillow, knowing exactly that his brother is taking care of his needs himself now and he can’t stand it. Everything is going downhill and he hates it. 

One week passes and the brothers don’t even share a word. Sam goes to school in the morning, but Dean doesn’t take him there anymore. It’s of no use, he would only see him surrounded by the girls of his class and he has seen that often enough already. Dean spends most of the week in bars and strip clubs, barely even noticing what’s going on around him. He looks for distraction that he can’t find. He tries to forget his brother, when he’s all he can see everywhere. Not even when he falls into his bed and blacks out it changes anything, because something is missing. Something is missing for months and he can’t get it back, no matter what he tries. 

It’s that time when John announces Dean will join him on a hunt and for the first time Dean is glad that he will leave Sam for a week, that he will have time to think. Sam is old enough to last a few days without them, John leaves him enough food and money behind and when Dean looks at his brother for the last time before he walks out of the door he can see that he’s glad too. Dean is sure he will never forget the look on Sam’s face, this expression that only means one thing: he doesn’t need him anymore. 

Dean is silent when his dad drives, he doesn’t even want to think, even though he can’t stop it. He tries to remember what he did that Sam is so cold towards him, that he wants him gone. All he did was what he always did, carrying Sam on his hands and give him anything he wanted. But apparently that wasn’t enough anymore. Of course not. Sam was getting older, he wasn’t the nine year old Dean could hold in his arms at night and who would look up at his big brother with eyes full or love. No, those times are long gone. All Dean can see now when he looks into Sam’s eyes is emptiness. 

A week alone isn’t what Dean wants, a week away from Sam isn’t what his heart is craving for, but what can he do? It’s his fault that Sam acts like this. Because of him Sam is a complete wreck, he stole his childhood, his innocence – he _twisted_ him. No wonder he doesn’t want Dean around anymore. He finally realized how toxic and wrong and sick their relationship is, it’s only natural that he wants to end it. 

To be honest, Dean would do anything to turn back time, to prevent himself from ever thinking different about the little brother he loves so much. He just wants his little Sammy back, the brother who crawled into Dean’s bed at night because he was scared and the little brother he told stories at night when he couldn’t fall asleep. What’s so wrong with that? He screwed up so much, the thought of losing Sam forever is just the worst thing he can imagine. And it’s happening right now. And no matter what he does, he can’t stop Sam from moving away even further. 

Dean doesn’t call Sam like he used to when he’s on a hunt with their dad, making sure he’s okay. John does, but Dean never asks to talk to Sam. He knows it’s better if he doesn’t. That’s what it should be like, Sam living his own life, not depending on his pedophile of a brother. It’s the first hunt ever that Dean nearly blows up because he can’t concentrate and the yelling from his dad afterwards he takes without even flinching, because he knows he deserves it. 

That night he’s sure everything is over. His father is disappointed in him because he’s weak, his brother hates him because he turned him into the emotionless mess he is. There’s nothing he can do about either of those things. He doesn’t even want to try anymore, in the end he had it coming after all. 

In the morning, five days after they left, Dean looks out of the Impala’s window, not even seeing the scenery they drive through. Not for the first time during the last days he asks himself if it would be better to just leave, to not make it even worse by coming back. But still, even if Sam hates him, he’s his little brother and he promised to never leave him. As much as he wants to save him, he can’t go. 

Dean drifts into a weak slumber, dreaming of this last time he and Sam had such a wonderful moment. How Dean played with his brother’s hair that he was growing, with those beautiful brunette streaks. It was a bit weird, yes, but he loved them so much. Sam had made these wonderful noises when he tickled him, when his hands roamed his body in search for more spots that would cause this reaction. Sam had been so happy, so joyful and so damn sweet, they didn’t even do it this night. All they did was being together, teasing, showing how much they needed and adored the other. 

Dean often thinks back to this moment, asks himself what on earth he did that turned the adoring and loving Sammy he had into the Sam that wouldn’t even talk to him anymore. It’s one of the very few things that manage to lift his mood up a little, if only for a few moments. When he remembers his hands trailing this perfect body; that was getting more perfect with each passing day. Or the way Sam chuckled when he found this spot on his hips that turned him into a sweet and sweaty mess. And the way he praised him, told him how much he loved running his fingers through his hair, how beautiful he was, how much he needed him, craved him – _loved_ him. 

Dean’s eyes shoot open like something bit him and he stares out of the window, his breath hitching and his heart racing like mad in his chest. That’s it! That’s the thing he did, the thing that destroyed everything. His stomach twists and it's more than pain, it's five ties worse.

“Dad, pull off – I gotta… I gotta…” Dean loses his voice, but John acts fast enough. The car barely stopped when Dean rips the door open and falls on his knees, throwing everything he has inside up on the side of the road. He’s crying and coughing, trying to drag himself away from the Impala, no need to anger his dad even more today, and crashes down on his knees again a few feet away. He never knew just how sick he could feel, just how _wrong_ and completely lost. But this is the moment when it all comes together, when he knows what he _did_ to destroy everything and he just can’t anymore. All he can do is throw up again and try not to say his brother’s name, not even whisper it, because he knows damn well his dad is watching everything he does and he can’t let him know. 

He doesn’t know how much time passed, or how long his dad stood beside him, but when he finally starts dragging himself up again two strong arms keep him on his feet; without the support he would have landed face forward in his own vomit. 

“Did you eat something bad?” John asks and helps his son back to the car, but Dean just shakes his head, causing a nasty nausea again, but this time he can keep it under control. 

“I got a cold or something, I dunno. Just lemme lay down a little.” 

Yes, he got a cold, but the cold is called Sam and it’s his fault he turned into this. John lays his son into the backseats before he continues their way home, or whatever they call home at the moment. Dean closes his eyes, silent tears rolling down his cheeks that he can’t hold back. There is no strength in him left, nothing to fight against it. He doesn’t even know if it’s of any use or not. 

He told his brother that he loved him. And Sam moved away from him. There was nothing he could get wrong about this, it is simple. Dean loves Sam from the bottom of his heart, Sam doesn’t love Dean like this at all. It’s the easiest conclusion in the world. 

When he closes his eyes he can only feel disgusted by himself. Now all these feelings come at him, the guilt, the hate, everything he should have felt whenever he was with Sam like this and never did. Because all those words that come to his mind now are true. He forced this on Sam. It was him who started all this, not his little brother. He _was_ a pedophile, a child molester, hell, even a _rapist_. He destroyed his little brother when he was supposed to protect him from evil. Just because it never crossed his mind that maybe _he_ was the evil he should protect Sam from. 

They arrive at the motel five hours later and Dean is still sobbing in the backseats, unable to even get out. John yells at hi, but Dean doesn’t move. He just wants to die and getting up won’t help with that. Maybe his dad is stupid enough and leaves the keys in the car; that would be a clean solution to his problems. But Dean was never a coward, all his life he was fearless and strong. He only ever had one true fear and with it becoming real now, who was he going to kid anymore? 

“Just leave me here. It’s okay.” He mumbles, his voice dry and thick. 

“If you throw up in my car you’re no longer my son!” John warns him, but he leaves without throwing the keys at his son as Dean expected him to. It doesn’t matter. If he lies here long enough nature will do the thing for him anyways. Dean can’t even think about going into this motel again, face his brother and the emptiness in his eyes, the cold in his heart. But when he suddenly hears John yell, definitely yell at Sam, his brotherly instincts win and he shoots up, storming out of the car. 

He ignores the urge to throw up again, the urge to just run away, and rushes into their room. What he sees shatters his heart into pieces, but there is no time to be shocked. He simply jumps onto his dad and prevents him to do the last thing he could do wrong as their father. Dean tackles him away from Sam, from Sam who turned into Sammy again, who sits on the floor, a pair of scissors in his hand that are way too close to his neck to be there accidently, the floor covered with those beautiful brunette strands of hair Dean loves so damn much. John crashes against the hard wall with his forehead and is knocked out by the sudden force, but at least he didn’t hit Sam. Thank god he wasn’t fast enough. 

Dean rushes to Sam, who is crying big crocodile tears, whose face is pale and horribly tired, as if he didn’t eat in days. And the worst thing, the absolutely worst thing that could happen, it happens. Sam crawls away from his brother, sobbing like a little child again, and it’s like a kick in Dean’s guts. 

“Don’t! Just go! Go away!” Sam screeches, literally screeches, a high-pitched voice Dean never heard before. He’s panicking, completely out of his mind. 

“Sammy, put this thing down, I beg you!” Dean’s hands clench to fists on the floor, but he doesn’t dare to come any closer to his brothers. The scissors are pressing against this spot on Sam’s neck, the soft spot behind his ear that he used to kiss before, but that is so thin he knows Sam is able to push the iron through it if he’s desperate enough. And Sam is. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Dean! _I can’t!_ ” 

“Sammy, please! I will go, okay?” Sam’s eyes widen at Dean’s words and again it breaks the older one. “I promise I’ll never touch you again, never even _look_ at you anymore, if only you stop this, please!” 

“Dean…” Sam’s voice is just a whisper and new tears stream down his face. He shakes his head, those damn scissors still against his skin and Dean wants nothing more than to grab them and break them in half. He could do it, it’s easy, but if Sam if fast enough it’ll be too late. 

“I’m sorry I did this to you, okay? I swear I never wanted to hurt you!” Dean drags himself from the floor, watching Sam carefully. He even raises his hands in defense, anything to make him stop. “I’ll go, okay? I’ll do it now.” There are tears in his eyes too now, because all of this is just too much to bear. “Please, Sammy. Please don’t do it.” 

Sam watches him as he sneaks to the door, slow, cautious. Then he suddenly drops the hand that presses the cold metal against his skin, both hitting the ground where the scissors just jump away. 

“No. Call me that other name again. Please, Dean.” 

They look at each other, Sam crying and Dean completely thunderstruck. Sam didn’t know what else to say, what to say to make Dean know this is not what he wants, that his was never what he wanted. It had taken him days to build up enough courage to finally end his misery, but they came home too early. And when he saw Dean, his big brother tackling their father away from him because he intended to hurt him, when he saw that Dean was willing to leave just so he could be happy again. He just loses it. Only when Dean is about to leave, about to step out if his life he uses this last chance, the last anchor he has. 

“ _Baby boy._ ” Dean whispers, his own tears now rolling down his face, and Sam rushes forward, throws himself into his big brothers arms and just clings on him and cries. Dean holds him so tight that he can barely breathe, but he doesn’t care. As long as Dean holds him, as long as he still loves him nothing matters. 

“Don’t you _ever_ do something so stupid again, Sammy!” Dean tries to sound strict, but in reality he’s just begging. Begging his little brother to not leave him, to never even think about of going this way again. 

“I was so scared, Dean.” Sam cries, his face buried against his brother’s jacket. He’s shaking like mad, something not even his brother’s strong arms can prevent. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby boy, I know. Hell, I’m scared too, okay?” He tries to sound confident, to give Sam strength when he has nothing left himself. “All these months I asked myself what I did to throw you off like this, to make you so cold towards me.” 

“Dean, no –“ 

“Dean, yes.” He cuts his little brother off, shaking his head. “I realized it today and when I did… I wanted to die Sammy. Knowing that I said this and you – you did this... I’m so sorry, Sammy. I know you must hate me for all of this, but I swear, I never wanted us to end like this.” 

“No, Dean, _no_.” Sam ignores that they are not alone, even though their dad is unconscious right now, he ignores the tears they both cry and what Dean just said. All he does is to pull Dean against him, pull him down to kiss him like he used to, before everything became a nightmare. It feels like he’s trying to fix what he did with this kiss, and maybe that’s exactly what he’s doing. He could never hate Dean for anything, not now and not if he would do the worst things in the world. And he had to know that. 

Dean tries not to do it, but when Sam kisses him he’s overwhelmed by his memories and he closes his eyes. This is his sweet and gorgeous and perfect Sammy, the one he called baby boy so long ago; the one he would steal the moon for if he could. His hands move up, cup his soft face and kisses him back with just as much as he kisses him. It’s Sam who pulls away and looks up at Dean, the tears in his eyes slowly drying. 

“I was scared because I love you _too_ and I didn’t know what to do. I thought what would happen if anyone found out, if _dad_ found out. I was so damn scared, Dean, I’m sorry.” He buries his face against his brother again, who understands the sign and holds him against his chest. “I tried to not feel anything anymore, to tell myself it can’t be and when – when you turned around… when you rejected me… Dean I thought you would hate me!” 

“Shh, Sammy, shh… I could never hate you, no matter what happens.” It hurts so much to hear Sam was thinking that and that he was as scared as Dean was himself. And he was just a selfish brick and didn’t even _try_ to understand him. “I _love_ you, baby boy. I will _always_ love you. You’re my perfect little Sammy, okay? I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.” 

“Am I still perfect like this?” Sam asks shyly and looks up, sad eyes meeting Dean’s blue ones. He knows he must look horrible after cutting off so much of his hair in a desperate act to stop himself from doing something even worse. Dean has a smile on his face that says more than words ever could, but he still speaks, because he knows Sam needs it; needs to hear the words from his big brother. 

“You will _always_ be perfect, Sammy.” He assures him, stroking his cheek gently. “We will get you a new cut, a real one. But you’ll always be beautiful to me, I don’t care if you have long hair or short or none.” 

“But you always played with my hair and now –“ 

Dean shakes his head and shushes his brother with a finger to his lips. “Doesn’t matter. Yes, I loved your hair, I really did, but I love _you_ more, okay?” 

Sam nods, a little smile on his face now too. He knows he screwed up, Dean doesn’t have to tell him that. Trying to pretend he wouldn’t feel anything, he doesn’t even know what he was thinking. He knows he loves Dean, knows that those nights when he pretended he didn’t were horrible. There was nothing nice about Dean touching him and more, it just felt like he was dead meat someone touched. He doesn’t care anymore if their dad finds out, for all he knows he could be standing behind them this very moment and he wouldn’t notice. Right now Dean matters; and that he was finally able to accept that there was so much more between them than anyone would ever understand or accept.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long. It's smut and fluff and feelings. and I love it.

Things between Sam and Dean changed again, but this time they changed for the better. After John woke up in the morning they both got a long and annoying speech, Sam because he was a baby and was stupid enough to now look like one of the three Stooges, Dean because he attacked him. They let him rage and when he threw them out Dean decided it was time to make Sam happy again. He took him to a hairdresser and got his brother a neat haircut, who promised him he would grow his hair again so Dean could play with it. He would tease his brother with this kink for quite a while, but he loved the feeling of Dean’s hands in his hair, he couldn’t deny it. 

It was almost like it was before, only now there were more affections through the day, even if they were subtle. Dean ruffling Sam’s now short hair, their hands touching a little too long when one gave something to the other, looks that were filled with more than just happiness. Dean fell back into the habit of picking up Sam after school and when he came out he always ran right towards him, ignoring even the prettiest and most gorgeous girls following him. Dean couldn’t have been happier about this and yes, he felt a little proud. 

Over the next two years it was alright, for both of them. Some things were troublesome, especially with their dad getting more and more suspicious about them suddenly getting along again, but they both thought they hid what they did pretty good. There was just one thing Dean found out about Sam and he really liked that one; he was just as good with his mouth as with his hands. His mouth wasn’t only cheeky, but damn greedy too, just like Sam. Dean woke up one morning to the sweetest pleasures, only to find Sam between his legs, giving him the fucking best blowjob he could have ever dreamed of. He had no idea if it just came naturally for Sam or if he seriously studied what to do, but Dean didn’t care. It was glorious what he did and it turned their little forbidden adventures around so much. 

When Sam turned sixteen he started testing his thing with girls out, something that left bitterness in Dean. Sometimes Sam tasted different when he kissed him and he could tell every single time that it was because he kissed a girl before. Yes, he knew he did it too, _still_ did it, because he couldn’t just fuck his little brother into oblivion like he did with those girls, but this was different. Sam actually enjoyed his experiments, while Dean used them as a way to let off steam. Dean thought these things weren’t serious, that Sam would get tired one day or another; until one time he comes home and declares, proudly in front of their dad, that he has a _girlfriend_. 

Dean loses control over his face as his jaw drops and his brows narrow. He doesn’t care that John is there too, he just glares at Sam with so much betrayal in his eyes that they turn dark. Before he can do something to blow them up he storms out of the door, pushing Sam aside in the process and knocking him against the wall. This is one step too far for him. He can live with making out, even if it hurts him, but this… _this_ just crosses the line for him. 

Dean doesn’t come back for three days, not so that Sam can _see_ him at least. But he’s there, oh boy he is there. He is there when am and his girlfriend make out after school, he’s there when they go watch a movie and head for ice cream afterwards and yes, he’s also there when they get it on, but that’s the moment he has enough. He knows what they are about to do when they disappear in the woods behind town, the girl giggling and blushing like mad and Sam looking like the happiest boy in the world. 

That day Dean decides to screw it and get drunk. He wants to pass out, hell, even drink until he throws up if he can, but through the first two beer he gets a different idea. Oh yes, this one is much better. He smirks when he pays the barkeeper, glad that their dad is once again on a hunt alone and they have a metal bed in their room. He knows Sam will be back before night, it’s the only thing he always does; he’s predictable like that. And maybe, after he had fun with his girlfriend, he surely won’t mind _Dean_ having some fun too. Dean might not be drunk when he comes back, but the idea of what he plans makes him feel like he is. 

Sam comes home, but he’s not in the happy mood Dean suspected him to be. He’s looking rather sad, but Dean doesn’t give a damn about it. When Sam turns on the light and sees Dean sitting in the corner he cringes. 

“My god, Dean! Don’t scare me like that!” He gasps, throwing his bag away and slipping out of his shoes. 

“Had some fun with your _girlfriend_ , Sammy?” Dean growls and stands up, hands carefully hidden behind his back. He doesn’t want Sam to see anything, not yet. 

“No, we went out but that’s about it.” Sam shrugs. Dean can almost _smell_ the lie, and it makes him angry. When he’s face to face with Sam he slams one of his hands against the wall, to which the younger one cringes again. 

“You’re lying to me, Sammy.” He says and glares evilly at him. “Do you know what happens to liars?” 

“I – I didn’t lie! Dean, nothing happened, okay?” Sam is scared shitless and somehow Dean enjoys it; a small, dark side of him craves Sam like this. 

“So you have dates in the woods now, yes? Where no one can see you? And you tell me nothing happened?” 

Sam swallows when Dean suddenly pulls back, revealing what he has been hiding behind his back all the time. A rope. The younger ones eyes widen, there is nothing he can do about this. Dean is terrifying; and somehow it turns Sam on. 

“W-what are you doing? What is this for?” 

“We’re playing a game now, what do you think about that? Because there’s something I wanna do for so long now, it’s driving me mad.” He looks at the rope in his hands for a moment, almost daydreaming, before turning his head slightly. His eyes pierce through Sam and curse him if he doesn’t almost cum right there and then from just the lust and desire in Dean’s eyes. 

“A-A game?” 

“Yes, a game. If you’re giving yourself to a girl you can give yourself to me too, don’t you agree?” 

Now it clicks and Sam knows what Dean _really_ wants; and what he thinks Sam and the girl _did_. Dean grabs Sam’s wrist rough and pulls him closer, their chests crashing together. Sam is almost as tall as Dean now, maybe two or three inches separate them, and he’s in a much better condition than a few years ago. If he wanted he could easily fight back. But he _doesn’t_ want to. Dean finally wants to do what he wishes for so long already, there’s no way he will fuck this up; he will play along. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Dean, let me go!” He pretends to fight, trying to get his hand free; and sees Dean’s eyes sparkle at him. 

“You know what you mean. You _fucked_ that bitch, didn’t you?” 

“What’s the matter if I did? I’m old enough to make my own decisions!” Sam cocks back, pulling on his wrist again. 

“You’re _mine_ , Sammy! You can’t just run around fucking girls!” 

Now Sam _really_ gets angry, because so far he was just playing Dean’s melody, but _this_ he won’t accept. With one hard pull his wrist is free and he glared at Dean furiously. 

“I fuck around? _I_? What about you, Dean? Who fucks at least five girls in each town we hit?” 

“You – you…” Dean steps back, startled. Nothing goes as he had planned, dammit. Why does Sam have to be so fucking cocky now? And why couldn’t he shut his stupid mouth? “I have my reasons, okay?” 

“Yes, Dean. Guess what? I have mine too! So why don’t you just let me _be_?” 

“Because I _can’t_!” Dean growls and grabs Sam’s collar, crashing his lips hard against Sam’s; so hard, in fact, that he can feel blood dripping down from his own. It’s less of a kiss and more of a damn cry of desperation. When Dean pushes Sam back his breath is heavy and cut off. 

“Just tell me what the fuck you _want_ from me then, Dean!” 

“I don’t want them, I want _you_ , you stupid son of a bitch!” 

They both stare at each other, eyes wide and holding their breath. It feels like an eternity passes until Sam finally speaks and his words hang in the air for a few moments, taking Dean by surprise. 

“Why don’t you just _do_ it then? Why do you go out and fuck random chicks when I’m right _here_?” 

“Sam, I –“ Dean swallows, gripping the rope in his hand tighter. From his brother it sounds so easy, but he doesn’t have the slightest clue how hard the last years were for him. “It’s not like never wanted, okay?” 

“Then why? Tell me, Dean. I _know_ what you do with those girls, I knew it the first time you did it already. Do you think I like it? Do you think I sit here, waiting for you to come back to give me some sort of _merciful blowjob_? Like I’m a god damn puppy you can play with if you want to?” 

“I never –“ Now it’s Dean who backs away, steps away because he never knew this and he’s shocked by Sam’s words. How can he think like that? Doesn’t he know he just did this to _spare_ him? 

“I mean it, Dean. All those years I was _here_ , I _waited_ for you! And all I get is what’s left when you come back, totally satisfied and fucked dry already!” 

“That’s not true and you know it! How can you say that?” Dean isn’t angry anymore, now he’s just hurt. “Should I fuck a twelve year old? Or even better, a nine year old? _Dammit_ , Sammy, this was never easy!” 

Sam looks at him, his shoulders dropping and the pain clearly written on his face. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it’s nearly impossible. 

“I was _here_ , Dean…” he simply says, looking at his brother with eyes so hurt that the older one’s stomach twists; the tear escaping Sam’s eyes not helping at all. “I just wanted you to give me what you give _them_.” 

“C’mere, Sammy.” 

It’s all Sam wants and even though he’s mad at Dean, mad for being the same jerk he had always been; he follows his word, walking up at him. When Dean pulls him against his chest, gentle this time, he doesn’t protest. He holds him tight, a hand brushing through Sam’s hair, the hair that he grows again just so Dean can keep loving it, even if it annoys him sometimes. The touch is soothing, had always been, and Sam sighs silently. 

“I did these things because I couldn’t have what I wanted, Sammy.” Dean says after a while, keeping his voice under control; because he knows he can’t burst into tears now, not when Sam needs him to be strong. “I wanted to protect you. You said you knew what I was doing, did you ever wonder what all these girls had in common?” 

“They let you fuck them?” Sam scoffs. He wants to push himself away, regrets his stupid decision to give into his longings, when Dean speaks again and he’s frozen in place. 

“They were _you_.” 

“M-me?” he stutters, blushing like mad. 

“Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t really you of course.” Dean smiles and pulls Sam’s chin up so he can look into those beautiful hazel eyes he loves so much. “But I could imagine they were you. And I don’t want to imagine anymore, Sammy. I want the real deal, the real _you_.” 

“Dean, are you serious?” Sam asks carefully, smiling and showing Dean those damn cute dimples again. 

“I am. I might not be your first, but I want to be your _best_.” And with these words he leans down, sealing Sam’s perfect lips with his. There is nothing he wants more, nothing he ever wanted more, than Sam to be his. It hurt that Sam wasn’t pure anymore, not that he ever was after what they had done already, but it was alright. He wrapped an arm around the younger one, smirking into the sweet kiss when he guided him over to the bed.

Sam lets Dean almost carry him away, lost in their kiss and in the anticipation of what is to come. Dean will finally do it, after all those years they will finally do the last thing. There is just his brother now and the heat he feels. Dean lets him down on the bed, his eyes shimmering with lust as he opens them and breaks the kiss. 

“You know, Sammy, there’s a day I will never forget. Do you remember when we were in the woods together?” He asks with an aroused voice and slides the rope through his hand. Sam just nods, unable to speak. Of course he remembers. A rope just like this, trapping him because of his own stupidity. 

Dean hovers over Sam, who instantly crawls back until he hits the pillows, a pleased groan coming from his brother. He licks his bottom lip and crawls after him, a sight that makes Sam want to moan just by looking. 

“I wanted to take this thing and tie you up against a tree, Sammy.” Dean growls, now between Sam’s wide open legs. The tone of his voice makes him shiver, hands moving over his head to grab the metal of the bed as Dean bows down. He pushes his shirt up; and stops. “I wanted to do so many _bad_ things to you.” Dean’s voice, his breath on Sam’s skin; everything is so damn hot suddenly. Sam’s head spins. 

“D-Dean…” 

“I wanted you to beg me, Sammy. Beg me to _touch_ you, to fuck you until you pass out. God, Sammy, you were such a damn _tease_ for me in those tight shorts, all struggling and whimpering.” 

Sam’s head falls back when Dean’s tongue pushes into his navel, it feels so damn good, so damn greedy. 

“Dean, please – do it. Do it now.” Oh, Sam begs and he loves it. Begging his brother to tie him up, to take him as he pleases; he wants it badly. Being fucked by him is something he fantasize for years now.  

“Want me to tie you up, baby boy?” Dean purrs and Sam can feel teeth on his skin before he bites down, earning a moan from his brother. “Want me to make you mine?” 

“F-fuck yes! Dean, please! I want it!” 

It’s all Dean ever wanted to hear from Sam. Begging, needing him, without any doubts. He crawls over Sam and does something his brother doesn’t expect; he sits down on his crotch, his own hard one pressing against Sam’s growing erection, drawing a moan from him. It’s not the last one he’s earning today, that he knows. With skilled hands he gets Sam out of his shirt, the younger one aching his back when Dean’s hands work on him. He loves when Dean undresses him, always had, always will. 

All Dean wants to do is fuck Sam unconscious, but he’s working slow when he takes the rope and ties his wrists against the head of the bed, Sam watching his every movement with a face that Dean can only describe as gorgeous. 

“Tight enough?” Dean smirks when he’s done, giving Sam the chance to try freeing himself; without success. Suddenly though he notices worry on his brother’s face, hesitation. “What’s wrong, Sammy?” He coos, nuzzling his face against Sam’s hair. 

“Will it hurt, Dean?” Sam asks carefully, drawing Dean’s full attention to his eyes now. He trails a finger down his neck, following the line with his lips. 

“A little, baby boy. But I’ll be careful, promised.” He’s honest with him, because telling Sam it won’t hurt and then hurting him would be like a broken promise. And Dean keeps all his promises, always. 

“M’kay.” Sam mumbles, fingers itching to touch Dean, but it’s impossible to move his arms this way. He knows it will hurt, but he needs to hear from Dean that he’ll be gentle. Dean doesn’t know the truth about what happened with Sam’s girlfriend, or better; his ex-girlfriend. He doesn’t need to know, doesn’t need to know that this _is_ , indeed, Sam’s first time. Not yet. But he will tell him when it’s time. 

“You know, I just wanted to _take_ you today, but this is so much better.” Dean groans, his hips pressing against Sam’s crotch harder now, almost demanding. He sits back up, running his hands down Sam’s bare chest, trailing his muscles that became so hard during the last months. “You’re so damn pretty all spread out like this, Sammy.” He purrs, smiling. 

Sam pulls on his ties, his hips bucking up; searching for friction. He’ll probably cum just by Dean talking like this and pressing against him, but damn, he didn’t want it. 

“Dean, please. I’ve waited for so long…” he whines. Now Dean finally gets off him, just so his hands can fondle his jeans open. Sam doesn’t wait when he pulls them down, his underwear along, he just kicks them off carelessly, eyes on his brother. Now he’s left with nothing but the ties on his wrists and the desperation in his eyes. “Dean…” 

He can barely take his eyes off Sam’s body, of the way his muscles tense and his hard cock twitches. It’s almost as it was the first time, but now he doesn’t have to hold himself back, doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t see it; now Sam is all his and it’s more than he ever dared to wish. 

Dean pulls his own shirt over his head, throwing it to the ground. With one hand he reaches for the nightstand, bringing a small bottle into view that was hidden before. Within a few seconds he’s out of his pants too, watching as Sam’s eyes wide a little; they always do when Dean is naked. 

“What’s that?” Sam asks, eyeing the bottle in Dean’s hands. The older one smirks as he opens the lid and squeezes some of the cold liquid on his hand. 

“Something to make it easier, silly.” He chuckles. He carefully rubs his hands as he moves back between Sam’s legs. “Just do what I tell you, okay Sammy?” 

“Always.” Sam answers immediately, not even a second of hesitation. It’s not only that he wants this even more than Dean, but there’s blind trust in him. 

Dean wishes he could do this slower, take more time, but he knows Sam can’t last long this time. He’s already showing the signs of pure need, as much as Dean. He just wants to do it, after such a long time he is so eager to feel Sam around him, to become one with him. 

Carefully, to let Sam get used to the feeling, he presses one of his fingers against his hole; not yet inside, just circling his entrance. His response is wonderful, the moan escaping his lips even better than the first. Sam pushes against him, Dean’s finger sliding into him with ease and damn, it feels good. 

“You’re so tight, baby boy…” Dean hisses, the only response he gets is a low whimper; and he loves it. When he pushes his finger a little further, stretching Sam for the first time, he’s panting under him. 

“Dean, please. Wanna feel you, please Dean!” 

“Shh, not so fast Sammy. Soon.” Dean licks his lips, trying to hold himself back somehow, but he knows it won’t last long. Sam is so desperate and when he adds a second finger, scissors him open for his cock, Sam moans and cries out at the same time, both from pleasure and the stinging pain he feels. But the pain doesn’t matter, all that matters is how good he feels. 

“More… _More_ , Dean.” 

Sam’s whimpers and begging are too much. Dean can’t wait any longer. He pulls his fingers out carefully and takes another load of lube, rubbing it over his so damn hard cock before he aligns himself with Sam. 

“Your legs, on my shoulders.” 

Sam follows Dean’s order without thinking. Legs resting on Dean’s shoulders Sam lifts his hips a little, without even knowing helping Dean. The tip of his cock presses against Sam’s slick hole before he stops. 

“Ready for me, Sammy?” Dean groans and Sam’s answer is just a weak whimper, begging him to do it. 

“Yes… so ready, Dean.” 

It’s like heaven when he pushes into Sam, his hot and so tight ass pressing against his cock, squeezing him as Sam aches his back and cries out from pleasure. Dean’s hands rest on Sam’s stomach, holding him down, his eyes watching him pant under him. 

“Oh god, Sammy… you’re so fucking hot.” He moans, carefully starting to push further. He wants to fuck Sam into the sheets, but he doesn’t want to hurt him, despite his need he still has so much brain left. Sam pushes against him, a mixture of moaning and sighing leaving his lips. 

“Oh god, more Dean. I want all of you, please.” 

Dean is buried inside Sam’s ass almost completely, now pulling out slowly, making the other cry out his disapproval, before slamming into him and turning the cry into a scream, a scream he joins with a satisfied moan. And then he moves, thrusting into Sam, slow at first, testing. He never felt so whole before, Sam’s walls clenching around him with each thrust, the tightness and how hot and wet he is just for him. Dean wants to be buried in him forever like this, never leave the perfection that his brother is ever again. 

“F-fuck Dean! Yes! More, please, gimme more!” 

Sam is lost in the feeling of Dean so deep in him, of his hands on his hips, nails digging into his skin. It’s impossible not to whine and whimper, but the pain he felt when Dean thrusted into him for the first time is gone, replaced by this overwhelming pleasure. It’s too much, Dean is too big, too big for his ass that is basically split open by him, but he still needs more, needs him deeper and harder inside him. 

“Gonna make you cum so hard, Sammy. God damn, you’re so good…” 

Dean thinks it can’t get any better, there is nothing better than fucking Sam like this, giving him all he ever wanted to give him, finally claiming what he needed for so long; but then he hears Sam scream his name, the same scream he heard so often before, only now it’s so much louder and better. He feels Sam cum against his stomach, sticky and hot and wet and he groans deeply. It’s all he needs to be pushed over the edge himself and when he spills into Sam, coats his walls with his cum as Sam’s spasms mild him dry he knows this is it; this is how it should have been all along. He moans Sam’s name in ecstasy, riding out the best orgasm in his life, fucking Sam who still cries for more. For the first time he feels _whole_. 

Sam’s legs are holding Dean close, pressed against himself, but Dean doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to leave the warmth Sam provides, the perfection and purity this moment hold. 

“Dean, I – I have to… tell you something.” Sam gasps for air, he can barely breathe, but he feels so damn good like this, still connected with his brother and his arms lazily holding him. 

“That bad, huh?” Dean asks, but his voice is just as weak as Sam’s. 

“No… no.” Sam smiles. He wants to tell Dean, but he wants to look at him. “Come here.” 

Dean groans, leaving Sam means leaving heaven, but how can he deny him? He pulls out, slow enough so Sam moans again, and he can’t hold in a grin when he moves up to the head of the bed to untie the rope. Sam’s wrists are red, like so many years ago in the woods, and again he kisses the bruises, making Sam whimper under him. 

“ _Dean_.” 

“Yes, baby boy. I’m here.” He lays down beside him, arms wrapping around Sam’s naked body and pulling him closer. “What is it?” 

“I have to tell you something.” Sam smiles, his hands closing in Dean’s neck, playing with the short hair. 

“You can tell me everything.” Dean assures him and presses a soft kiss on his lips. Sam blushes a little when he looks up at him, hazel eyes dark from his exhaustion and pleasure. 

“You _were_ the best, but you were also something else.” Sam purrs. 

“What else?” 

“My first, Dean.” Sam admits, smirking. Because he never had sex with this girl. He tried, for whatever reason he tried, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get hard, no matter what she did. And when she asked him what the hell his problem was he just looked at her, smiling; because he knew why. He knew too well. Because she wasn’t Dean and she was never what he wanted.

“I… was…” Dean’s voice fails him, but it doesn’t matter. Sam pulls him into another kiss, a kiss so damn sweet and deep that he forgets his doubts about his brother’s words. All he can think of are Sam’s lips against his and the words that echo through his head, words that fill his heart with so much pride and love; and also a little guilt, that he doesn’t care anymore. 

_He was his first._


End file.
